Aeon The True Face of the Force
by Curse Pen
Summary: He died a Jedi. He died for Hope. But when one has seen his influence, the true essence of the Force rears its head, and he finds himself embroiled in a war of atrition with the very core of what had saved him. SW: The Force Unleasehd Rated T for language
1. Disclaimer

**Disclaimer**

I do not own this. This awesome man called George Lucas created this awesome universe and I am just borrowing his galaxy far, far away to place this story.

I do not own this game. The Force Unleashed belongs to the amazing people who are lucky enough to play around in Lucas' galaxy and get paid doing it. I hope one day to be one of those people, but as of right now, I am not one of the privileged few.

I do own the OCs in this Fanfiction story. And I own half the plot; you'll see why if you read.

This has been a Curse Pen announcement.


	2. Chapter 1 The Sabers of Itara

**The Sabers of Itara**

Anakin Skywalker yawned loudly, earning himself a disapproving glare from Obi-Wan.

"What?" the young man asked.

"That was most… most…" Obi-Wan yawned. "Do not say anything," he finished.

Anakin grinned.

He looked around as the chamber doors opened. Both rose and bowed to Master Windu and Master Yoda as the two Jedi entered the room.

"Masters," Obi-Wan said, smiling. "What did we do to deserve this honor?"

Master Windu nodded for them to sit. Master Yoda floated over on his hover chair and alighted on a meditation plinth, facing the door.

"Sorry to call you so early," Master Windu said. "Especially after you have just returned from rescuing Chancellor Palpatine."

"The Separatists wait for no man," Obi-Wan quipped, making Anakin roll his eyes. "What can we do?"

"Soon know, we all will," Master Yoda said, his craggily voice low but clear.

Obi-Wan and Anakin exchanged glances.

"What do you mean, Master?" Anakin asked.

"We were contacted a short while ago," Master Windu said, "by… well, he is no Jedi, but he is an old friend of the Jedi. We could not readily ignore his request."

"Not a Jedi?" Anakin asked. "He… he isn't a Sith?"

"No."

"Then—"

"Did you really think that the Force only graced the Jedi and Sith?" Windu asked incredulously. "Even with the extent of the Order now, it is impossible to find every Force-sensitive person in the galaxy. Groups and cults have risen in the Outer Rim and elsewhere, groups that are revered by the less knowledgeable as sorcerers and gods. The Conclave of Itaraian Sorcerers is one of the most prominent."

"Itara?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Itara?" Anakin echoed. "Aren't they those weird zealots that believe the Dark and the Light sides of the Force to be mere theory?"

"Be more open minded, Anakin," Obi-Wan said. "Their thoughts have always fascinated me, no matter how impractical they are."

"Indeed," Master Yoda said. "Strange they are, but believe they do in their logic."

Anakin snorted. "What does the Conclave want with the Jedi council?"

"Nothing."

Anakin jumped and almost fell off his chair. Obi-Wan started, as did Windu. Master Yoda merely blinked at the two forms by the door.

"Strong you are at hiding your presence," he said, gesturing for the dark robes to sit. "Seated be you, Sorcerers."

"It is an honor to speak with the great Master Yoda," the taller cloak said, sliding across the floor on silent feet. "And you, Masters Obi-Wan, Windu and Skywalker."

"Anakin isn't—" Obi-Wan started, but stopped before said former pupil could complain. He eyed the dark robes. It was strange. With his own eyes he could see a man there, standing five eleven and moving with the effortless grace of a serpent. Yet, in the Force, there was no one. He was invisible to them, as if he did not exist.

Obi-Wan glanced to the other robe. It was incredibly short, smaller perhaps than Master Yoda. It was a child, had to be. He was pulled from his musings by Anakin's blunt conversation starter.

"What do you want, Sorcerer?"

The man smiled from within the dark recesses of his hood. "Introductions first, young Jedi. I am Grand Lord Zelini."

"Anakin Skywalker," he said.

"I am Obi-Wan Kenobi."

"Master Mace Windu."

"Yoda I am," Master Yoda said, gliding up and closer to Zelini. "And you?"

Zelini threw back his hood, revealing oily black hair and — as Obi-Wan had suspected — serpentine features. His gold eyes flashed as his pointed fangs bared in a polite smile. "I have given you my name, Master Yoda."

"To you, I was speaking not." Yoda hopped off his hover chair and smiled kindly at the smaller figure. "Hmm? Your name, Youngling?"

"He is my apprentice," Zelini said, dismissively. "Now—"

"Introductions said you," Yoda said, turning to look up at Zelini. "Introduced he is not, hmm, yes." The small Master turned back to the boy. "Name yourself, if please you."

"C-cursr Jurnani," the small apprentice stuttered, bowing low, his hood completely hiding his face.

"Difficult, it was not," Yoda said, patting the boy's head and then turning to Zelini. "Business discuss you now."

Zelini sniffed through slit-nostrils. "My masters have reason to believe the Separatists are leading a fleet to Itara. We wish the Republic to send a fleet to aid us."

"Why can't you do it yourself?" Anakin asked.

"We are few in number and docile in nature," Zelini hissed.

"Somehow, I doubt that," Anakin muttered.

"What do you mean, too few in numbers?" Obi-Wan asked. "Surely you have some kind of defense? Especially in these times. I had the understanding that the Dominion of Itara had a defense fleet."

"But not the Conclave," Windu said darkly. "Itara is sure of its place, but the Conclave is not. The Dominion and the Conclave have always been at odds. Grand Lord Zelini, you are worried that the Dominion is joining the CIS to rid you from the planet?"

"Yes," Zelini said bluntly.

"Hold on," Anakin said, raising a hand as if to stall the conversation. "Why can't you do this yourself? You're Jedi — I mean not Jedi, and you aren't Sith, but you still have power."

"But not nearly enough, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, as if imparting some sacred knowledge that Anakin should cherish for the rest of his life.

The young man resisted the urge to roll his eyes again.

Zelini watched Anakin with his own eyes, their unblinking depths filled with deep seated malice. "You make a valid case, young Jedi. With the Force on our side, the CIS do not stand a chance. However, if we use our vast power, the Dominion will fear us more than they do. Although they fear us with right cause, my masters want as little conflict with the infidels as possible. They wish peace between us."

"Besides," Windu said, his stern gaze falling on Anakin. "We should not incite battle on their front."

"Why? All of the Order's Jedi have become Generals," Anakin countered, defensively. "We fight almost every day."

"But we use the Force in a defensive roll," Windu said, calmly. "The Lightsaber is our major mode of offensive combat. The Itaraian Sorcerers have no such skill."

Anakin looked at Zelini. The Itaraian nodded, his fanged smile widening to what would have been painful on any other species.

"Would you want us to use the Force to crush an entire starship into nothingness, Jedi?" he hissed.

"They're filled with droids anyway. Who cares," Anakin bit out, feeling the eyes of his masters on him. His face grew hot and he snapped his mouth shut. They treated him like a child, even when he presented logic far superior to their own.

No one spoke for a second. Zelini's apprentice broke the silence with a slight shuffle of his feet. The child's master snarled at the smaller cloak and then turned to Master Kenobi. "Well? Do we have an accord?"

"If you want a Republic fleet to assist you," Obi-Wan said. "You should have joined the Republic. On that precise note, this is a matter for the Senate. The fleet movements are decided by the Chancellor."

"Even if the Jedi command them?" Zelini said, practically spitting the words out. Anakin felt the smallest tremor of what felt like fear, permeate the room. He tried to find out who it was, but the presence was new and gone just as quickly as it had come. It was unlike anything he had felt before.

"Even if the Jedi command the troops," Windu said. "However, your Master Elric is an old friend of mine, so I would be willing to bring this to the attention of the Chancellor."

"That is most generous, Master Windu," Zelini hissed, rising and drawing his hood over his head. "How long should I wait?"

Master Windu's shoulders rose and fell in an impossibly rare shrug. "A few days, perhaps."

Zelini's teeth flashed again. "Excellent, Master Jedi. We will stay on Coruscant to await your decision." He turned to his apprentice, the slick white scales of his face darkening slightly. "Come, boy."

Obi-Wan let out a long sigh once both had departed and the doors hissed closed. "I have never met such an unpleasant man. Well, Dooku excluded."

Anakin nodded in agreement before voicing his question. "Was it just me, or were both of them masked from the Force?"

Windu nodded solemnly. "The Itaraian Sorcerers have nearly perfected the art of hiding from others. It has been a long time since I met one in person, so I had forgotten how strange it feels. They are methodical in nature and skilled hunters too. Many Itaraians are Force-sensitive, and join the Conclave at a younger age than even our Order."

"Powerful, they are," Yoda said, still watching the door. "Jedi thought with Sith skill, yes. Powerful. Difficult to master the Shadow technique is."

"Shadow technique?" Anakin asked, instantly intrigued.

"Hiding oneself from the Force," Obi-Wan supplied. "It is difficult. It borders on Sith teachings."

"Their practices do not disturb me," Windu said. "It's his request that does."

"What about it?" Anakin asked. "Seems reasonable to me. He should have gone to the Senate and not the Jedi Council, but still…"

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said, patiently. "Since when has any system had warning against the Confederacy fleets? The Conclave is strong, but not that strong. I sense ulterior motives."

"As do I," Windu said.

"Indeed," Yoda said, turning back to them. "Turbulent is the Force. Both sides of the line, Zelini does walk."

"Huh?" Anakin hated admitting he was lost, but it was true.

"Think, Anakin," Obi-Wan said. "Zelini and the Conclave know of an imminent attack. They ask for a Republic fleet, and yet have not aided any Republic ships that passed the Itara system. The Dominion has yet to choose a side in this war, and the Conclave wants to gain status in the eyes of the Dominion."

"It's a set up."

"Correct."

Anakin shook his head. "They contacted the Confederacy and told them a Republic fleet would be passing their way. They tell us a Confederacy fleet is heading for their home world. Basically, whoever is alive after the fight is the side the Dominion will support, and the Conclave will take credit for picking the winner."

"Almost perfect," Obi-Wan said. "Well, Master Windu?"

The older master sighed, too exhausted to do anything else. "I know what the Chancellor will say. We are stretched too thin protecting more important targets. Even a fleet is too much at the moment. But I will contact Chancellor Palpatine nonetheless. But in the morning."

Anakin suppressed a grin as Master Windu suppressed a yawn.

"Lord Vader?"

Anakin opened his eyes. Vader? Who…? A dream? No, a memory. He thought he had destroyed them all, all the memories of those a mere year ago.

"Lord Vader?"

Darth Vader reached out with the force and activated the switch that lowered his helm. The fool had disturbed him during his meditation; even with explicate instructions not to do so before reaching Kashyyk. He would pay.

The door opened and Darth Vader strode out, towering over the much smaller Star Destroyer Captain. "What is it, Captain?" he breathed, the rasping of the respirator telling of the man's impending doom.

"We—" the man faltered, but continued bravely. "We have arrived at Kashyyk, my lord. Your shuttle is waiting."

So the incompetent had followed orders. Still, he was unsure, and Vader — though he hated to admit it — was in a bad mood. He needed to take his anger out on something, or someone, and a perfect incompetent stood before him.

As Darth Vader ran through these thoughts, the Captain lay gasping on air that could not reach his lungs. Finally there was a sickening crack and Vader stepped over the corpse.

A nearby Lieutenant caught Vader's eye.

"Lord Vader," he said, coming to attention.

"What is your name?"

"Lieutenant Yet Korynn."

"You are now Captain Korynn."

"Thank you, Lord Vader."

The new captain looked after Darth Vader as the dark lord billowed toward the hanger. Captain Korynn then turned to a stormtrooper. "You there."

"Sir."

"Get the former Captain off my bridge. He is bleeding on my deck plates."

"Sir."

The massive trees of Kashyyk burned. The Wookies and Stormtroopers clashed on the beaches and nearby cliffs. Vader observed this from the copilot's couch, the Imperial pilot guiding the Lamba transport down to the cliff landing zone.

"Sorry I could not get you closer, Lord Vader," the pilot said, lowering the ramp.

Vader ignored him and strode out onto the battlefield. He missed it in a way. The scream of TIE fighters, the thundering of heavy cannons, the whine of blaster carbines. The roar of enemy troops.

"Lord Vader."

The voices of inept commanders. Why were they always such fools? How did they become Field Commanders if they were such hopeless… fools?

"Commander," Vader rasped.

The Imperial officer flinched as a TIE exploded overhead, spiraling down into the lower tier of treetops. "My apologies, Lord Vader. We were ambushed—" the man started to gurgle as he rose into the air.

Vader absently surveyed the field. "I do not want to hear about your incompetence, Commander. I am here on a mission of my own. Do not get in my way."

The man gasped as he fell to his knees. He looked up to watch the Dark Lord of the Sith walk calmly past a Wookie, blasting the creature through a tree with a flick of his wrist.


	3. Chapter 2 The Burning Force

**The Burning Force**

Vader knew he was pressed for time. The fugitive Jedi he hunted could flee at any moment. However, the hopeless chivalry of the Jedi might prevent him and force him to confront Vader.

Grasping a passing Wookie with the Force, Vader casually hurled him into another, sending both tumbling over a cliff. There was plenty of resistance, but not nearly enough to stop a Sith Lord. By the Force, there was barely enough to slow an apprentice.

Vader watched as a pair of Wookie Berserkers launched themselves into the air and roared down on him. Vader reached out with the Force and gripped both of them, shoving them down to crash into the ground. He then tossed a nearby boulder into the barricade and flattened the smaller infantry Wookies.

The Stormtroopers wisely let the Sith Lord pass, shooting carefully around the dark visage. It would be a clean up job for them. Vader's 501st Legion might be filled with workaholics, but the 734th preferred to let others do their work for them.

Vader paused in front of a large wooden barricade. The Force was strong here. The Jedi was close.

Darth Vader gathered the Force between his hands and launched it forward, splintering the barricade and spearing Wookies to their trees. The lucky ones sailed through the air, to crunch to the ground far away.

Several bridges, and a horde of walking carpets later, Vader strode into a clearing, two Stormtroopers close on his heels.

Vader would have smiled if he could. The Jedi strode out of the Wookie hovel, lightsaber in hand. Striding to meet his doom, just as Jedi always did.

"Be gone," the Jedi cried. "You are not welcome here, dark lord."

Vader's lightsaber snapped into his hand.

The Jedi set his teeth and a force wave crashed over Vader. It was simple for the dark lord to part the wave, raising a single hand out of instinct. He noted vaguely two Stormtroopers thudding to the ground, but the Jedi was already dashing down the steps, blue saber ignited, preparing to attack.

Vader met the first strike with a parry, tossing the Jedi back. A focused blast of the Force smashed into the Jedi, sending him flying back into a tree. Vader did not relent, charging another assault. This time, however, the Jedi thought more clearly, meeting Vader's attack with his own. The Force blasts twisted into each other, Sith and Jedi trying to get the upper hand.

Vader had to admit, the Jedi offered a challenge. But it was slight. A quick pulse of the Force surged down the channel between them, and the Jedi lost the standoff. He crashed back into the tree. Vader advanced, keeping the Force energy constant, pushing the Jedi into the tree until the bark splintered.

The Jedi roared, a counter Force breaking Vader's hold. But while the Jedi was spent, Vader was not. The blast of Force energy was unlike anything the Jedi had felt, and was one of the last things he did feel. The blast shoved him into the tree a third time, and shot him through it, bringing the towering trunk down on top of him.

Vader waited patiently. The Jedi was not dead, not yet. After all, Vader needed to speak to him. There was another presence, faint, untapped, but strong and wild. It could be the Jedi's master, but it felt… wrong somehow.

The hum of a lightsaber drew Vader's attention back to the matter at hand. The Jedi rocketed out of the fallen tree leaves, blue blade a continuous figure-eight, weaving a complicated pattern into Vader's blocks.

Vader took the attacks, blocking and parrying when needed, but the attacks were feverish, panicky. He was fearful. But of what? Death? No… something worse than death.

Vader caught the saber on his, the blue blade humming inches from his helmet. The Jedi was learning fast, and was working closer. Time to stop playing, Vader thought.

He caught the blue saber and pushed away, staggering the Jedi with the sudden change of pace. Vader sent another blast through the Force, shoving the Jedi into a rock.

The Dark Lord took advantage of the Jedi's disorientation, and struck. The Jedi parried feebly, losing his grip on his lightsaber, the blue blade vanishing as the cylinder hit the dusty courtyard ground. Vader gripped the Jedi through the Force and threw him into another tree. Not loosing the Force hold, Vader flew the Jedi through to air to smash into a balcony of the Wookie building, and finally tossed him to the ground like a doll.

The Jedi struggled to his hands and knees and looked up at Vader as the Sith Lord unleashed another powerful blast, sending the unfortunate fugitive crashing through the wooden door.

Vader followed.

Darth Vader lifted the Jedi from the splintered rubble. "Now, where is your Master?"

The Jedi struggled for breath, helpless in the bone-crushing force of Vader's grip. Even in his desperate situation, he still managed to look defiant. "The Dark Side has clouded your mind. You killed my master years ago."

"Then I will send you to him."

Vader raised his lightsaber. Suddenly he felt a strong surge in the Force and felt the weapon spin from his grasp. Angry — and confused — Vader spun around to find out who would dare pull his weapon from him.

He had to look down.

Before him stood a boy, perhaps five or six years old, holding the weapon of the Dark Lord of the Sith, a look of shock and horror on his face.

"A son?" Vader mused, turning from the Jedi.

"Run," yelled the Jedi.

Vader clenched his fist, the crack of the man's neck resounding with the snap of leather gloves.

Darth Vader studied the boy, his mind racing behind the black mask. The boy was strong, as strong in the Force now as Vader had been in his prime. It was wild and mostly untapped, but… with the proper tutelage… together they could rival the Emperor.

The plan formed and took root. An apprentice. Vader remembered vaguely a young girl he had taught before. The only other apprentice he had. A thought strayed to if she had lived through Order 66, but it was shattered when the Field Commander and five Stormtroopers hurried through the shattered door.

The Commander stared at the scene before him. A young boy threatened Lord Vader with the Sith's own lightsaber. The Commander smiled, visions of promotion for valiancy flashing through his head. It was not much of a challenge for his troopers, but anyone who threatened Lord Vader had to face judgment. With a brief nod to Vader, the Field Commander gestured to his troops to open fire on the boy.

Vader saw the Stormtroopers line up and ready their blaster carbines. If his plan was to come to fruition, it was now or never.

The saber flashed into Vader's hand, a blaster bolt reflecting into a trooper's helmet. The red blade flared through flesh and bone, striking left and right. The Field Commander's face still held a look of comical astonishment as, bereft of its body, the head sailed through the doorway.

Vader turned to the boy. "Come with me," he ordered.

Vader seated himself in his meditation chamber, and allowed himself a very rare sigh. Sighing was not uncommon, just not in front of subordinates. It was rare because it was a sigh of relief. Generally, he did not smuggle small boys into his private quarters in order to keep them as secret apprentices. However, smuggling was necessary, as the boy would not be much of a secret apprentice if the whole ship knew of him.

Vader was just about to remove his helmet, when the door chimed. Vader's trepidation flared into anger. Who would dare disturb him in his private quarters, let alone his meditation chamber? When did a hard working Sith Lord get a moments peace?

"Enter," Vader commanded, fully intending to strangle the intruder as soon as the door opened.

The door hissed open to present the new Captain of Vader's Star Destroyer. Vader searched for his name.

"Captain Korynn," the Captain supplied. Vader paused his strangling. He was perceptive.

"What is it, Captain?" Vader asked, mildly amused at the Captain's arrogance.

"I only wanted to inform you of the time of arrival. The Emperor contacted the ship just before your return. His Highness wants to see you immediately upon your arrival. In person. We will reach the Mobile Mining Station and Ore Extractor in four standard hours and twelve standard minutes, including shuttle time for you to meet the Emperor." The Captain bowed. "I apologize for disturbing you, Lord Vader. Please, excuse me."

And he was gone before Vader could think to reprimand him for intruding. He decided to let it slide, this once. Besides, he had already replaced the captain once today. Twice would be a waste of resources.

"Lord Vader."

"Master," Vader said, bowing and fixing his eyes on the ground.

The Emperor turned from the transparasteel dome window and eyed his apprentice. "How did your hunt go, Lord Vader?"

"Well, my Master."

"Always the humble one," the Emperor cackled. There was silence for a time. "Is there anything else, Lord Vader?"

Vader paused. This was… unusual. The Emperor had never been curious about _how_ Vader dealt with his enemies, just if he _had_. So why did he care now? "No, my Master."

"Are you sure?"

Vader looked up at his master. Was that a hint of malicious humor in the gold and red eyes? No, no it was not. "Absolutely, my Master."

"Very well, Lord Vader. I have decided to grant you a reward for your loyalty and hard work. Take your fleet to the Estran sector. There is the skeleton of your new flagship. I trust you will see its construction finished."

"Thank you, my Master." _Does he suspect?_


	4. Chapter 3 The Apprentice

**The Apprentice**

Vader did not turn as the doors of the _Executor_'s bridge opened, the swift and precise click of boots following the echoes into the empty Super Star Destroyer.

"Captain Korynn," Vader breathed.

"My Lord Vader."

"How goes your campaign?"

"Well, my lord," Korynn said, standing next to Vader and looking out at the thousands of construction droids working to complete the immense star cruiser. "The pirate insurrection has been crushed. I am disappointed that you decided to appropriate my best TIE pilot after the subjugation of Callos, but I know you only chose the best for your more… private missions. Oh, yes. I also collected several new artifacts and… specimens as well. Do you wish me to transfer them to the _Director_?"

"As soon as possible, Admiral."

"Admiral, Lord Vader?"

The Sith turned to face the other man. "You have proven yourself more than competent in the last fifteen years. I want you to transfer your new acquisitions and yourself to the ISS _Director_ immediately. You will be in charge of the Storm Commando units for the Outer Rim, based out of the _Director,_ and her four Star Destroyer protectors."

Korynn bowed low, instead of his usual crisp salute. "I am honored, Lord Vader."

"I have great faith in you, Admiral. Do not fail me."

Admiral Yet Korynn smiled and saluted. "I would die before failing you, Lord Vader."

"Very profound, Admiral."

The Admiral laughed shortly. "I will take my leave of you now, Lord Vader."

And with that, Korynn turned and strode out, the doors hissing closed. He turned a corner and stopped, surprised to see what looked like a half-built protocol droid sitting on a crate with a welder in hand.

"Good day, PROXY," the Admiral said, eyeing the enigma with a humorless smile on his face.

The droid looked up from the self repair job it was performing on its arm to nod at the newly promoted Admiral. "Good day, Admiral. It is wonderful to see you again."

"Why is it that you always have such damage to you, PROXY?" Korynn asked offhandedly.

The droid leaned in close, a smile in his metallic voice. "If I told you that, sir, I would have to kill you."

The Admiral smiled back. "You are a very disconcerting droid, PROXY."

"I do my best, Admiral."

"I am sure you do. Give my best to… your master."

"I will, Admiral Korynn."

The Admiral grinned and swept past the droid, toward the hanger.

PROXY looked after him for a moment — long enough for the Admiral to pass beyond two sealing bulkheads — before moving in the other direction.

There was a sudden thud and the snap-hiss of a lightsaber. PROXY stood still, the red blade passing just in front of his neck.

"Ah, Master. It appears you win this round," the droid said as the saber deactivated.

PROXY turned to face a young man — nineteen or twenty standard years old — a human with dark brown eyes and a shaven head. His clothes showed a hard life, with the sleeve cuffs in tattered strips and the armored collar dented and slightly singed with carbon scoring.

The young man smiled as he clipped the saber to his belt. "I really doubt that, PROXY. You always try something, and you haven't attacked me lately."

"They say the apprehension is worse than the attack."

"Not true in your case," the young man said. "Is Master alone?"

PROXY seemed to grin. "Can you not sense it, Master?"

The Apprentice was silent for a second. "He wants to see me," he said at last, spinning away from PROXY and heading for the bridge door. The droid shrugged and headed for the hanger. The Apprentice always checked on the _Rogue Shadow_ before the midday meal. It would be a perfect time to ambush him.

The Apprentice knelt behind Vader.

"It is time for your first true test," Vader said, never one to mince words.

The Apprentice's head shot up. "Your spies have located a Jedi?"

"Yes. Master Rahm Kota. He is attacking a critical Imperial shipyard. Destroy him and bring me his lightsaber."

"I will leave at once," the Apprentice said, rising and hurrying for the door.

Vader's voice stopped him. "No one can learn of you. Eliminate everyone. Imperial and Kota's men alike."

The Apprentice opened his mouth to question this, but decided against it. If it was Vader's word, it was the Apprentice's command. "As you wish, my Master."

The Apprentice walked into the hanger, his view of his ship obscured by several industrial crates. As he passed a crate, the gentle hum of the half-alive ship was broken ever so slightly by another hum. That of a lightsaber.

The Apprentice whirled, his own saber locking with that of a Jedi. The Jedi had coppery hair and beard and was wearing a white tunic, the signatures of a singular Jedi Master Kenobi. The blue and red sabers fizzed for a second before the Apprentice slipped the blade away and struck out with a powerful backhanded lunge.

The red blade pierced the elder Jedi's tunic. The hologram fizzed and then dissipated, leaving PROXY behind.

The young man grinned as he turned his lightsaber off and helped his long time companion up. "I haven't faced that training program in years, PROXY. I thought you'd erased it."

"I was hoping to catch you off guard and finally be able to kill you, Master. It is my core programming after all. It seems I have failed you again."

"Yeah," the Apprentice muttered, sure that PROXY could hear him anyway. "Wish you'd stop trying."

They proceeded through the crates, when the Apprentice suddenly heard the sound of a welder. Rounding a crate corner his heart did something funny and he spun back, grabbing PROXY's shoulders and thudding him into the crate side.

"Master?"

"Who's that?"

The droid peeked around the corner and observed a young human female in a black Imperial Officer's flight suit. He turned back to his Master. "Ah, your new pilot, Master. Accessing Imperial records now."

PROXY's body shimmered and shortened an inch or two, the shoulders and hip servos widening and slimming till they were even. The holo-projectors hummed to life and the Apprentice jumped back slightly as he was now holding the young pilot against the crate. She was even more striking up close, with high cheek bones and platinum blond hair combining well with dark sapphire eyes. The Apprentice's heart did that thing again.

"Captain Juno Eclipse," PROXY said, his voice now distinctly feminine with an equally distinct accent. "Born on Corulag where she became the youngest student ever accepted into the Imperial Academy. Decorated combat pilot with over one hundred combat missions, including the Callos genocide bombing run."

"Is there a psych evaluation in there too?"

The Apprentice and the PROXY/Juno looked around the corner to see the real Juno Eclipse watching them, with a half-amused, half-peeved smile on her porcelain face.

PROXY deactivated the holo-projection, returning to his normal skeletal design. "Actually, yes," he said, looking from Juno to the Apprentice and back again. "But it's restricted." The droid leaned in close to the Apprentice and whispered, "But, Master, I can tell she will be _impossible_ to reprogram."

The Apprentice ignored him. "You're my new pilot?"

"Yes," Juno said. "Captain Juno Eclipse, though I think you already know that."

The Apprentice stalked past her, a slight burn in his cheeks. "Do you know why you're here?"

"My orders were clear. I am to maintain the ship and fly you wherever your missions require."

"Did Vader tell you he killed our last pilot?" the Apprentice said.

"No," Juno said, completely unfazed. "But I can only assume that _he_ gave Lord Vader good cause to do so. I will not."

"Good. I'm sick of training new pilots."

"What should I call you?" Juno asked, falling into step behind the Apprentice.

"Starkiller," he said shortly, before he noticed the tools near the sensor array and the new metal welded into it. "What did you do to my ship?"

"I've taken the liberty of upgrading the _Rogue Shadow_'s sensor array," Juno said, a little defensively. "I assume we'll be spying on enemy ships. That is who you are, right? One of Lord Vader's spies?"

_The nerve of some people,_ the Apprentice thought. He rounded on her. "You do not need to know anything about me or my missions. I need a jump to Nar Shadda. Can you handle that?" he asked, venom soaking his sentence.

"Of course," the pilot said stiffly, moving past Starkiller and up the ramp.

The _Rogue Shadow_ lifted perfectly from the floor of the hanger and flew out into the cold black of space. None but the construction droids saw them leave.

As the multi-colored swirl of hyperspace enveloped them, Starkiller got up from the copilot's seat and went back into the ship's interior without a word.

Juno glanced after the young man and then at his droid. "So," she started, turning to face PROXY. "You're a pretty top of the line droid."

"Thank you for noticing," PROXY exclaimed.

Juno noted the sarcasm. He was advanced. Not just the holo projectors but also accurate human mannerisms too, even if he did look like a hastily assembled scrap-bot. "Do you know where we're heading once we reach Nar Shadda?"

"No, Captain Eclipse."

She blinked. "Does he?"

"Presumably."

"So what's he doing?"

The droid looked at her for a long time with those gold, unblinking eyes. After a while Juno thought he might have glitched and frozen his motor circuits, but as she stood and started to move past him toward the back of the ship, PROXY was suddenly there, blocking her path. He was fast for a droid.

"Formulating a plan," the droid said, gently but firmly pressing Juno back into her seat. She felt the power in the arms, the restrained strength of the servo-motors, ones that could crush duracrete.

"Why didn't you say so?" Juno asked, a bit miffed at not being able to move around her own ship at will.

"I had a faulty chip. I had to reroute it."

"Why would you have a faulty chip?"

"I am not fully adept at mending certain areas of my chassis. Master helps me with that."

"You can mend yourself?" Juno asked, amazed. Droids usually had restrictions on their programming, including their own schematics for self repair. It was there to stop droids from correcting their programming. Apparently, PROXY had no such restrictions.

"Of course, I can," PROXY said, with something that sounded like indignation.

Juno shook her head and turned back to the computer. "Well, if you are not going to let me tell him we are five minutes out, you'd better do it."

She got no answer except for the whir of motors and the clank of heavy feet.

The droid was only gone for a few minutes before Starkiller and PROXY returned to the cockpit, and sat down in their respective seats; Starkiller next to Juno and PROXY behind him.

"How long?" Starkiller asked Juno.

"Ten seconds."

"Alright. PROXY, give me the target."

The droid stood and powered up his holo-projectors as Juno started the power down sequence for the hyperdrive.

When she looked back, PROXY was now an elderly man in standard militia armor, with a white goatee and topknot.

"According to Imperial records," the droid said, in a melodious and resonant voice of the man he was impersonating. "Master Rahm Kota was a respected general in the Clone Wars—"

"You're hunting Jedi?" Juno asked, astonished.

"I bring Lord Vader's enemies to justice," Starkiller said and with a condescending nod to Juno, added, "And now so do you." He said it as if it was a great service he was doing her.

"Master Kota was a military genius," PROXY continued. "But felt the clone soldiers were unfit for battle. Instead, he relied on his own militia."

"So that means that there were no clones in his squad when Order 66 was issued," Juno interrupted.

"And after Order 66, he vanished. Official Imperial records actually claim he's dead," PROXY finished, powering down and falling heavily into the chair. It seemed to take a lot out of him.

"Why come out of hiding now?" Juno asked.

"He wants to be found," Starkiller answered, his tone thoughtful for once.

"Then we're walking into a trap," Juno protested, looking out of the forward view port to watch the Smuggler's Moon grow before them.

"Yep."

"How many pilots have you had before me?" she asked suddenly.

"Seven," he replied, not missing a beat.

"Excellent." Juno sighed and turned back to the consol. "Coming up on Nar Shadda. Engaging cloak."

"Head for the far side," Starkiller instructed.

"Why?" Juno asked — not expecting an answer, only a snide comment about orders — and turned the ship to cruise over the polar cap of the large moon. "There's only a TIE Fighter construction facility over there."

A squadron of TIEs screamed over them, diving into an escalating dogfight between Imperial and a varied group of militia fighters.

"That answer your question?" Starkiller asked, smirking. He stood and started for the ramp in the back of the ship.

Juno looked after him and noticed for the first time that he didn't have a blaster. She hadn't thought they would be in combat — at least, him in combat — and so had not considered it. Now she was worried. Losing her charge on her first day was not something Juno wanted to consider.

"Starkiller," she said, rising and grabbing her pistol. "Here, you'll need—"

"Not very observant are you," he said. Juno felt something push her roughly back into her seat. She looked at him as the cylinder at his belt snapped into his hand. Starkiller turned and sneered. "Don't tell me you were worried. How sweet of you."

Juno smacked the pistol back in its holster, glad that Starkiller had left. Her face was burning from embarrassment. Of course. How stupid could she have been? He was an agent of Vader's going after Jedi. His former pilots had all been killed, not merely reprimanded and tossed down in rank. Sure this _was_ Vader, to whom life was as precious as burnt wood, but even so… she should have seen it.

Starkiller was Vader's apprentice. A Sith.

In an attempt to regain some of her composure, Juno activated Starkiller's commlink. "The containment field on hanger twelve is down," she said. "Looks like a clear landing zone."

"Which is why we are not landing there, pilot."

_Damn,_ Juno thought, smacking her head. Of course. If the field was down, they wanted them to go there. Why wasn't she thinking straight? These were rookie mistakes.

She glanced at the droid. She could have sworn it had been laughing. "PROXY," she snarled, losing her temper a little. "Find me another way in."

"At once, Captain Eclipse."

Juno bit back a swear as the cloaking diagnostics beeped. The unit was starting on its last power cell. She would need to deactivate it in time to save the cells and give them time to recharge. The cooling units were not doing much better.

Wait. Cooling units?

"PROXY, find me a cooling unit on the factory."

"Pilot," Starkiller asked over the comm. "What are you thinking?"

"There are access hatches near major units, like cooling units. Cooling units are near hangers so…"

"You can drop me in through a cooling unit's access hatch. Good idea."

Juno grinned. _You bet your saber on it, Force Boy._

"Eclipse to Starkiller. I'll be moving the _Rogue Shadow_ out of firing range while you attend to your mission. The onboard scanners should be able to track your movements, and I will provide whatever intelligence support I can via your commlink. Captain Eclipse out."

Starkiller did not respond, and Juno settled to flying the _Rogue Shadow_ out of firing range and waiting for Starkiller to radio for evac.

Juno knew that the fight would be over soon. Outside the facility Kota's militia were retreating or dying, and the TIEs were grouping into patrols. They would find her if she wasn't careful, that is if any of them were concentrating on anything but the facility.

Juno turned around — feeling pretty safe after shunting engine power to shields, leaving the ship to float in space — and tapped into the facility's comm. channels. She then located Starkiller's homing beacon.

"Looks like they sealed the hangar's bulkhead door. You'll need to find a way through," Juno said over the commlink.

Starkiller rolled behind a crate and ducked as a blaster zipped overhead. "Working on it."

"You might want to work faster."

Starkiller rolled his eyes. "_You_ might want to turn the link off, pilot. Things are about to get… messy."

"What?"

"Warned you."

Starkiller ignited his saber and wrapped the Force around the crate. He concentrated, focusing on where the troopers had been. Kota's men were at the far end of the hanger, with Stormtroopers coming up a lift in the floor. The real threat was the Stormtroopers. Starkiller didn't have time to play with the facility's entire complement. Block the shaft and stop the troopers here.

The crate flew across the room, smashing into the white armor and repainting the black deck a nasty red. The intruder leaped, a red lightsaber whirling out in front, redirecting blaster bolts into several more troopers. He landed and a trooper rose into the air. He grabbed for a fellow, and then the two of them were blasted into an overhanging TIE Bomber.

The man reached up and then a TIE Fighter ripped from its holding pins and exploded into Kota's men, effectively ending all resistance, and most importantly, witnesses.


	5. Chapter 4 The Jedi

_**Author Note: Thank you to everyone who reviewed for reviewing. I just wanted to say this is not a novelization. The first ten or so chapters follow the game, with only minor add ons and changes. After that it becomes my own plot, but you will see that soon enough. Thanks again to **_**Rinter**_** and **_**Silent Emerald Eyes**_** for reviews, and please, if you have any criticism, voice it. Constructive comments can only help. Now, I am sure you want to read the story not read my blather. So what are you waiting for?**_

**The Jedi**

It had been a grim five levels of fighting and killing. Starkiller was thankful for Juno's initiative. She had warned him of a TIE squadron's activation in the facility, and he had managed to bend several beams down into the fighters' flight paths, destroying them. His previous pilots had never done that. Of course, his other pilots had never brought him to places where everyone was an enemy.

She had also warned him of several other dangers, one of them being the location of the General. The Jedi was right above him now, waiting for his death.

Starkiller took a calming breath and stepped into the lift. He managed several more before the anticipation took him over. His first real test. No longer would he be killing troublesome diplomats, or assassinating crime bosses so the Empire could usurp the gangs. No, this was a Jedi. A Jedi who had lived through the Clone Wars. This was a challenge. This was a test.

It was time to show Vader how well he had trained his apprentice.

The lift chimed and Starkiller stalked out. His hunter's instinct told him to analyze the room first, but he only got a split second to take it in. A circular affair with transparasteel windows acting as walls, floor and most of the ceiling. The room was littered with glass projectors, diagnostic panels and hanging tubes for coolant and air flow.

Then the excitement sped up his heart, as his dark eyes fixed on the older man.

General Kota turned with a look of expectation fading from his face. "A boy?" he asked, a little crestfallen. "Months of attacking Imperial targets and Vader sends a boy to fight me?"

Starkiller ignited his lightsaber, the crimson light staining the air with a brilliant furious aura.

Kota took a step back, but not of hesitation or trepidation. His green lightsaber snap-hissed to life.

"Don't try it, boy," the old master warned.

Starkiller raised his lightsaber in the rare backhanded style of Sith Shien, and lunged.

Kota met Starkiller one for one, and pushed away, both whirling sabers to regain their balance and to protect from an attack from behind. They circled for a second, eyeing up the other, judging the range of motion and ability.

Starkiller attacked, sending a bone shattering wave through the Force, intending to blast Kota into the wall. The Jedi smiled as he parted the feeble attempt with a wave of a hand.

"Come on, boy. You have to do better than that."

The Apprentice smiled back, a grin of a hunter. The next shockwave of Force energy was caught by Kota's own manipulation. The General seemed surprised when Starkiller sent wave after wave of Force blasts into the standoff, smashing the Jedi back into a wall.

"You're strong, boy. But strength alone will not let you win."

Kota ran forward, ducked under a thrown consol and met the Apprentice in a saber lock. They growled at each other as each tried to gain the upper hand.

"Vader's taught you well, boy. But not well enough." Kota lunged into the lock, breaking the Apprentice's guard and sending him barreling into the wall. The Jedi pressed the attack, whipping the emerald blade down and into the desperate block again and again.

Starkiller grunted as he caught the blade once more and was pressed to the ground. Kota panted through a toothy grin. He was winning, but he was weakening. Starkiller pushed against the opposing blade and then kicked backward, using the Force to speed his movement. Kota slipped, his fatigue showing. Starkiller gathered the Force into his hands and sent it rocketing into the General.

Kota spun in time to kick off the ceiling and land on the glass floor. Starkiller somersaulted down from the command rise and landed opposite.

"You're strong in the Force," Kota breathed. "But it won't save you."

Starkiller felt the overwhelming presence of the Force being unleashed. The room shuddered and then explosions shook the foundations of the corridor that attached the command center to the facility.

Kota brought the Force energy inside and then unleashed it, flinging the Apprentice back and through a glass screen.

Juno was watching the Command center when it happened.

"What the hell?" she said, not caring that she shouldn't swear in uniform. The entire center was detaching itself from the facility, silent explosions blowing it away from the station and toward the gravity well of Nar Shadda.

"Not good," she muttered, powering up the _Rogue Shadow_'s engines and moving for an intercept course.

Starkiller knew he would win. The old man was weakening, tiring with every swing of that green saber. But that did not make him helpless. More than once, Starkiller found himself in the grips of the Force at Kota's bidding. When it first happened, Starkiller had been unable to break free before he was sent through another glass projector. The room was getting progressively hotter as planetary reentry started to generate friction and heat. The transparasteel started to crack, a shard suddenly splintering away and slicing open Starkiller's cheek, just under his eye.

He needed to end this. He could sense Juno coming and he needed to defeat Kota and create an escape in time to get out without endangering her… her and the ship.

Starkiller picked his time to strike after Kota had aimed a buzzing computer consol at his head. He dashed forward, struck out with his blade, and then blasted back, knocking Kota into the wall. While the Master was stunned, Starkiller gripped him through the Force and swung him up into the ceiling. Before Kota could recover, Starkiller leaped into the air and grabbed the man's neck, smashing him into the ceiling once more. The Apprentice gripped the metal and swung, bringing Kota into contact with the ceiling again. He let the old man fall, gathering the Force into him, crushing it down into a volatile ball of turbulent energy and then releasing it into Kota, sending him into the transparasteel floor, sending spider-web cracks through the pane.

Kota rose in time to meet the Apprentice's attack.

"Fool boy," he grunted, their sabers fizzing against each other, their eyes locking over the pulsing blades of light. "You don't see it, do you?"

It was a ploy, and a feeble one at that.

"Vader won't always be your master. When I look into the future…" Kota said, his eyes losing focus. Starkiller pushed harder, feeling the Jedi losing strength and concentration. Why was he looking into the Force now? It made no sense.

Kota's face suddenly twisted into a mask of shock and horror, pain and disgust. "All I see… is me."

His resistance left him, and Kota screamed, releasing his saber has his own emerald beam seared his eyes. He fell back, and Starkiller pulsed a Force blast into him, shooting him through the weakened transparasteel. Kota fell, robes billowing into the rushing wind of Nar Shadda's lower atmosphere.

Starkiller watched the body disappear before shaking off his thoughts, calling Kota's saber to him and hopping through the hole.

Juno flew under the falling command bridge, intending to pass back around and coordinate an evac with Starkiller, when she heard something thud onto the top hull. She was worried for a second about falling debris. She rolled the ship once to shake it off then started to bank around to line up with the falling command center.

The commlink beeped.

"Starkiller?" she asked, hoping it was not some sappy message about leaving him. What she did get was a creative string of curses in several different languages including what had to be the ancient Sith tongue. "Starkiller, please repeat… or explain, perhaps."

"What are you doing?" The commlink popped as Starkiller yelled into it. "Open the top hatch you —" convenient pop, "before I rip it open and fly this bucket of —" another convenient pop, "—_cutor_ myself!"

Juno's face flushed with anger and embarrassment for the third time in under an hour. She had almost tossed Vader's apprentice off his only way back to his master. She punched the top hatch open button and moved aft to see him in safe.

"You look awful," Juno said, looking the Apprentice up and down.

Starkiller's heart did that weird thing it had been doing in the last fifteen hours and brushed past her. "How would you like to almost get thrown off your own ship?"

"Right… sorry. I thought you were debris."

"Debris?"

"Well, you dropped onto my ship without even contacting me first. How was I supposed to know?"

"_Your_ ship?"

Juno stopped dead. He was going to pick at such a little thing after she had almost killed him? Well, she was in just as foul a mood as he was apparently, because she found her mouth answering for her.

"Yes, _my_ ship. I fly it, I maintain it, I upgraded it. Where I come from, that means I own this vessel."

"Last I checked," Starkiller snarled, marching into the cockpit, "my Master owns this prototype. He is _allowing_ you to transport me where I need to go." He rounded on her. "So, unless you want to be _number eight_, I suggest you shut up and get me back."

Juno's jaw clenched. "Yes, sir."

She pushed by him, a bit rougher than she had intended, and sat down. Starkiller hissed in pain as he fell into the copilot's chair.

Juno looked at him, her temper already abating, but not quite out. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing." Starkiller grunted as he eased himself forward.

"Liar," Juno accused, seeing a few shards of glass sticking into his back. "PROXY, take us out bound."

"At once, Captain Eclipse," the droid responded, sliding past Juno and sitting at the pilot's consol.

"Where are you going?" Starkiller asked as Juno moved to the back of the ship.

"To get a medi-kit. You need to remove those shards."

"Are you trained for that?" Starkiller asked, but Juno had already left. He sighed.

"I agree with you, Master," PROXY said, turning from the consol. "She might accidentally kill you. That is _my_ programming."

"Yeah, wouldn't want to take away your fun."

"Is something wrong, Master?" PROXY asked. "Your pulse rate has been exceeding normal levels recently. Specifically around Captain Eclipse."

Starkiller looked at PROXY. "Shut up."

"As opposed to shut down, Master?"

"Just… just be quiet. And do not talk about your medical upgrades in front of Juno."

"Captain Eclipse."

"What did I say?"

"Juno: a tense that suggests you are closer to her than the fifteen hour acquaintance you currently have."

"Be quiet."

"Shut up?"

"Precisely."

Juno entered carrying a medi-kit. She put it down next to Starkiller and quickly punched into the navi-computer the return coordinates. Then she turned to Starkiller. "Lean forward," she ordered, picking a device out of the kit.

"You never answered my question."

"Which was?" Juno asked, with the patience of one who would get her way and was merely being nice about it.

"Are you trained as a medical officer?" Starkiller said, a bit belligerently.

"No."

"Then— ow!"

"Stop complaining. I thought Sith used pain to their advantage or something equally masochistic."

"Do you want me to channel it into you?"

"Not really."

"Then I can't do much with it."

Juno picked another shard from his back. "What did you do?"

"Kota threw me into a glass projector."

"Play rough, do you?"

"You could say that." They were silent for a moment. "Where are you from?" he asked. Juno jumped at the question, making Starkiller hiss again. "I knew I shouldn't let a pilot near me with tweezers."

Juno ignored him and finished picking out the larger fragments.

"Well?" he asked.

"Corulag. I thought you knew that."

"I meant where did you pick up the idea that a ship is owned by who works on it, not by who paid for it."

Juno thought for a second. There was no reason for her to tell him — unless he made it an order — but there was no real reason _not_ to tell him.

"I spent most of life in a TIE Fighter squadron. After you make it five years without dying, the fighter is practically yours. Besides, I doubt anyone would want it." She laughed shortly. "I knew this guy, one of my wingmates. He never showered — well, not ever, but not frequently enough — and the cockpit of his TIE smelled worse. I doubt anyone would want to take it over."

"So you assume ownership of a fighter because no one but you can stand it?"

Juno managed a real laugh, the first one in weeks. "I guess. I got some flack over how my cockpit smelled of Inoto wood — real fragrant stuff from Itara — and my squad made fun of me for it. However, I was the only one of my squad that the Captain was able to personally place a medal on. Couldn't get near the others without his eyes watering." Juno ran a hand carefully over Starkiller's back, feeling for any missed glass pieces. "Okay, off with the shirt."

Starkiller glanced at her. "Why?" he asked as he complied, unclasping the armored collar.

"I need to smear some Bacta paste on the cuts so they don't get infected."

Starkiller did not reply, but merely tossed the armor piece to PROXY and pulled the ragged shirt over his head. Juno raised an eyebrow. He wasn't shy about his body, and with good reason. He was lean muscled and tight limbed, his whole body exuding animalistic grace.

But that was not really what caught her eye. "Are you allergic to Bacta?" she asked.

The Apprentice shrugged. "I don't think so."

"No, master," PROXY supplied. "Your files state a success rate of ninety-eight point nine-two-nine-four-three concerning Bacta treatment."

"Then why do you have so many scars?" Juno asked, shaking her head and smearing some of the bluish-green paste into the newer cuts.

Starkiller shrugged again. "Never thought about it."

"What caused this?" Juno asked, tracing a long slash that cut down from right shoulder to left hip.

Starkiller jumped slightly at her light touch, but if she noticed, Juno didn't say anything.

"I was younger," he said. "I got cocky in a fight. Thug pulled a vibroblade on me. Wasn't paying attention."

"And this one?"

"Thermal grenade. Wasn't fast enough."

Juno traced a strange burn mark, one that actually furrowed the skin on his left bicep. "And this…?"

"Vader. Wasn't… wasn't good enough." Starkiller stood, pulling his shirt on. "I'll be meditating in back. Call me when we're two minutes out."

Juno stared at the closed door for a second before remembering the medi-kit and locking it up.

She sat down and turned to the quiet of hyperspace, losing herself in her thoughts.

Starkiller knelt down behind Vader. His dark master did not turn or raise his voice, but Starkiller heard every hollow word.

"General Kota is dead?" It was more statement than question, as they both knew that Starkiller would not be here if he had failed or left his mission unfinished.

"Yes, my master."

"His lightsaber."

The silver hilt whipped from Starkiller's hands, Vader not even turning to catch it. He looked at the saber, his emotions well hidden from his apprentice, but a sense of pride and satisfaction emanated — ever so slightly — from him.

"My spies have located another Jedi. Kazdan Pratus. He is far more powerful than you." Vader turned, his black cloak drawing him into the dark of space beyond the viewport. "I do not expect you to survive. But if you do, you will be one step closer to your destiny."

"The Emperor," Starkiller whispered.

"Yes. Only together can we defeat him."

"I will not fail you, Master."

Juno glanced up from the datapad she had been running diagnostics for the _Rogue Shadow_ on. "How'd it go?"

"We have a new target," Starkiller said. "We'll be heading for Raxus Prime."

"The junk world?"

"Jedi are now broken," Starkiller said, stalking past her. "I cannot think of a more fitting place to end a broken part's life."


	6. Chapter 5 The Sith Way

_**Thanks again to those who reviewed. I wanted to warn you that this might go on hold for a day or two, as I need to replay one of the levels to refresh my memory, and get Midterms out of the way. Hope this will hold you over until then. As always, criticism is appreciated.**_

**The Sith Way**

"Something's been bothering me," Juno said, as she stared into the tumultuous colors of hyperspace. She had been talking out loud to herself — a habit she had picked up from her first squad leader -- to order her thoughts.

"What?" Starkiller asked.

Juno looked around, squelching a heart-into-throat moment. "Huh?"

"What's been bothering you?"

"Nothing."

"Even without the Force, I can tell that is a lie."

"Wrong," Juno said, stiffly, turning to the consol.

"Okay."

Several seconds passed. Then a few minutes. Finally Juno sighed, slapping her hands onto her knees and spun to face Starkiller. "What?!"

"What?" he asked, a boyish innocence permeating his handsome face.

"You're staring at me."

"I was lost in thought."

"While staring at me?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Guess you piqued my curiosity. For some reason, I really want to know what you were just thinking."

Juno sighed. "If I tell you, will you stop staring at me?"

"Does it make you nervous?"

"…Yes?"

"Then I cannot say I will not do it later to get you to talk. But I will stop for the near future."

Juno shook her head. "I was just wondering… the TIE factory. Why did you kill the Stormtroopers too?"

Starkiller's face hardened. "Where did you hear that?"

"The holo-news. They said it was terrorists under the command of a Jedi who killed fifty Imperial soldiers and destroyed twenty TIE Fighters. Kota's men were reportedly all killed by the 'valiant sons of the Empire'."

"I've never seen a female stormtrooper—"

"Don't change the subject. I know that you could have worked with the troopers, but no one mentioned you. We went in cloaked and never asked for clearance. I reread my orders and it says that if I am questioned by Imperial, Allied, or Enemy forces, I am to 1: defer to your orders and 2: shoot to kill. Who are you that we have to kill our own allies? Why is it so important you remain secret?"

"It is safer for you not to know."

"I'm helping hunt down the last of the Jedi. I think that's pretty dangerous."

Starkiller's head snapped to her. "Are you really concerned? You realize that they are clones, right? Bred and raised to fight."

"You realize that the 501st Legion — Vader's Fist — is the only completely cloned unit left? They were people with families that you killed."

"Why do you care?" Starkiller asked again. "Fifty lives mean that much to you? You killed off an entire planet. Callos died because of your bombing run on that planetary stabilizer. You killed off thousands, and you complain about me killing fifty stormtroopers?"

"Vader ordered that attack," Juno snarled. "I never would have done that."

They glared at each other.

"Well," Starkiller said at long last. "They were Imperials, not a discordant planet. I guess I can understand that. Don't know why you feel so defensive about Callos, though. You followed orders."

Juno turned away. She hated that day. She regretted everything about it. But if she hadn't done as she was told, Vader would never have picked her for this assignment. She was sure that Callos was the last achievement Vader needed of her to choose her as his Apprentice's next pilot. Loyal, obedient, and best of all, a woman. Women were rare in the active military roles, just like non-humans. If she went missing after a secret assignment, even fewer people would care. The others had families that cared for their _sons_, after all. Her father probably forgot about his only child already.

It was only after Starkiller had been dropped off on Raxus Prime's toxic surface, that she realized he never answered her.

* * *

"How'd it go?" Juno asked as Starkiller entered the cockpit.

"I'm alive, so how do you think it went?"

"So the Jedi is dead?"

"Wouldn't be going back to Vader otherwise."

"I guess not."

Starkiller shook his head. "It was amazing."

"What was?"

"His delusions of grandeur."

Juno glanced at him, preparing to enter hyperspace. "Really."

"You saw it," Starkiller said. "The Junk Temple. An exact replica of the one on Coruscant. He even made junk models of the Jedi Council." He grinned. "My Master is no fool, Juno. He made me study my enemy. The junk replica of the Jedi Master Yoda was… lifelike. Pratus was gone mentally. He kept on ranting about 'protecting the Jedi Council.'"

"He was trying to redo what he had failed to do," Juno said. "It must have been painful for him to lose everything he knew. He found comfort in protecting those he lived to serve."

Starkiller huffed.

They were silent for a time. Suddenly, Starkiller broke the quiet.

"Sorry."

"What for?" Juno asked, completely confused.

"For snapping at you earlier."

"Never thought I would hear a Sith apologize."

"Don't get used to it." He glanced at her. "But it is safer for you not to know. In fact, it would probably mean your life if you did find out."

"Is that a threat?" Juno grinned at him playfully. "You don't look that tough."

Starkiller managed a small smile in return, but his words sent a chill through her. "I've killed hundreds of people, Juno. Two of them Jedi. If I hunt you, you die."

"Master," PROXY said, appearing in the doorway. "_Your_ Master wishes to speak with you."

"I'm coming, PROXY."

He left, leaving Juno alone with her thoughts again.

He was gone a long time, and Juno was just about to go listen at the training room door, when the cockpit opened to usher in Starkiller and PROXY.

"Felucia."

Juno turned and punched in the coordinates. "So soon?"

"My Masters spies are the best."

"Killed off all the weaker ones, huh?" Juno asked, jokingly.

"Yes."

"I should stop asking questions like that, shouldn't I?"

"Only if you don't like the answers."

The jump to Felucia was unproductive, until Starkiller started to whistle.

"What are you doing?"

"Hmm? Oh, does this annoy you too?"

She shook her head. "May I speak frankly?"

"Of course. You're my pilot. I value your input."

Juno felt her cheeks tint slightly, so she pressed on. "I find you very annoying sometimes."

He grinned. "Really?"

"Yes."

He leaned back, the grin growing into a smile.

"Why does that please you?"

"I have no idea."

She narrowed her eyes. They had been together for seven standard days, and yet they talked like old friends. He was oblivious sometimes, but in the ways that she would expect. Anyone Vader had prolonged contact with changed.

That brought another question to her lips. "Starkiller?"

He started humming the same tune he had been whistling. "Hmm?"

"How long have you been Vader's apprentice?"

He continued to hum, closing his eyes. Finally he stopped and looked at her. "Fifteen years. I think I was five or six — maybe younger — when he found me."

"Where?"

He shrugged. "Never told me. I know my father was a Jedi, though."

"You say that as if it's not a big deal."

"Never had time to think about it." He smiled. "The _Executor_ has been my home and adventure has been my family. Vader's more of a mentor and Master than a father figure."

"I can see that," Juno muttered. The image of Vader rocking an infant to sleep formed in her mind, and she shivered. She couldn't decide if it was funny or horrifying.

"You know," Starkiller said, his eyes fading back to the past. "When I was… ten, I think… Vader sent me on my first mission. It was simple, but… strange. I don't know if he had other assassins at that point or if he just wanted reconnaissance. But I was sent to this planet, Itara, to see what the situation was between these two factions."

"The Conclave and the Dominion."

Starkiller looked shocked. "How do you know? It's an Outer Rim world."

"Before my mother passed away, she used to talk about these fascinating worlds she wanted to visit. One that she talked about the most was Itara. Something about Force-created glass sculpture. Never could go because it was unstable government-wise."

Starkiller laughed. "That's a pretty impressive memory. Have you ever heard of Holocrons?"

"No."

"They are Jedi and Sith knowledge storage devices. The Itaraian Conclave were the finest crafters of glass Holocrons -- didn't call them that, though -- but few ever left Itara. Vader wanted me to acquire one." His face fell. "That's when he gave me this," he said, touching his left upper arm. "The Holocron broke. I got into a fight between the two factions. My first kills were Clone War era Separatist droids from the Dominion of Itara."

"The Conclave disappeared right?" Juno asked, thankful that her mother's fascination had rubbed off just enough for her to remember some details. "After the Dominion attack?"

"Yeah. Disappeared beyond the Rim. Probably found a world to hide on that was too out of the way for anyone to trace them. Only mission I failed."

"Well you did bring Vader the Holocron, right?" Juno said.

He forced a smile. "Yeah, just not in working order."

The navi-computer beeped. Juno turned to the consol. "Time to exit: thirty seconds."

* * *

Starkiller panted, sweat dripping feely down his mud-stained body. Shaak Ti, the Jedi Master, stood opposite him, her own red skin holding a sheen of sweat and the scars of lightsaber cuts and lightning burns. While they seemed matched, the invisible death of fatigue and lighting were working through Shaak Ti.

"You show such promise," she murmured, death slowly creeping through her. "Strong in the Dark Side, but… but there is hope." She looked up, her face sad and accepting. "You poor boy. Your master will betray you. It is the way of the Sith. Hatred, anger, betrayal. Fear." Her lightsaber _chinked_ to the ground, and Master Shaak Ti spread her arms, falling back into the giant maw of her loving Sarlacc, its tentacles waving forlornly.

Starkiller breathed through his teeth. Her words stung for some strange reason, and they would not go away. He shoved them aside, waiting for meditation to deal with them. He ignited his crimson blade as four Felucians dropped down around him. Their strange faces and basic Force presence allowed them to blend in well with their world, being almost plants themselves. Starkiller narrowed his eyes and glanced at them. They stared back, strange gurgling noises emanating from their throats.

Suddenly they turned and stalked back into the fungal trees. Starkiller grinned and turned for the extraction point, the _Rogue Shadow_ already descending only a few dozen meters away.

From some bushes nearby, a pair of red and gold eyes stared after him, tears brimming in their crimson depths. Maris Brood clutched herself, feeling Master Shaak Ti's presence fade from her. She looked up at the ship as it zoomed away from Felucia. It held her master's killer, and when he returned, she would be waiting. And Maris Brood would have her revenge.


	7. Chapter 6 The Betrayal

_**Thank you for your patience, and your awesome reviews. Sorry for the skipping over those two missions, but as I am sure all of you have played them, and I have another story to weave into this one, I thought it would be easier to write over them. That and I am too lazy to go through each and record what is said and the battle sequences. **_

_**Now, before you get into the story, I have a few questions for you to think about. **_

_**One is characters. I do not mind OOC, but I hate it when characters seem out of it in **_**my**_** stories. Please tell me if you think any of them are OOC.**_

_**Second: do you think I should work the Temple Mission in? I have not played it yet, but I know it comes after Kashyyk. Obviously, I would make my own adjustments to it, and I very well might put it anyway, but your input would be appreciated.**_

_**Lastly, are there any missions you definitely want to see written? Fair warning, everything after the **_**Empirical**_** is altered slightly. I might have it worked in anyways, and I won't be doing too many, because, as I have said, I have another side to write in. The final level is a shoe in though, as is Bespin, to a degree. **_

_**Now that I have finished blathering, on to the Star Wars goodness. Read, Review, and Critique, please.**_

**The Betrayal **

Juno glowered at the landing plates on the _Rogue Shadow._ She hated anything getting onto her ship, and Felucian mud was only slightly easier to get off than Rancor vomit. How Starkiller had been vomited on, Juno did not know, and did not want to know. Needless to say, they spoke over the commlink on the way back, because the stench was overpowering.

He had appeared later — a faint odor wafting from him if he moved too fast — dressed in nothing but a stiff brown robe and leggings. They looked itchy, and when Juno asked about them, he said they were the only things he could find to change into, that they were old Jedi robes, they _were_ itchy, and she was to mention it to no one under pain of… something that he would have to meditate on as she was too good of a pilot to kill. Once she had finished laughing, they had a quiet ride to the Estran sector.

Once they had arrived back, an R2 unit had rolled over and presented a message from Vader essentially saying 'gone to conquer planet, back in five.' It was a lot more official than that, but Juno thought her interpretation funnier.

So for two days, she and Starkiller would be on the half-finished Super Star Destroyer — alone — save for a hundred thousand constructor droids. Juno knew that they would not stay for long before Vader sent them somewhere else, but it was nice to have two days off.

Well, two days Starkiller had off. Juno would be cleaning the gunk from their ship for weeks.

She sighed and stripped off her top coat. She wished she had something other than the standard white undershirt, but nobody saw that anyway, so it would only matter to her finicky mind if there were mud and oil spots all over her white shirt. White! Whose idea was it to have white undershirts? Were they supposed to work on their ships in uniform? Nothing would show up on that matte black.

Juno fumed and muttered to herself as she got the cleaning equipment and decided to start on the landing plates. It took ten minutes to do that and then another twenty for the other two. Half a standard hour and she was amazed at how much still had to be done. The engine filters were filled with jelly-like slime, the pistons for the landing struts had slime _and_ fungus spores coating the _insides_, and the hull needed a Geonosian dust storm to get it clean.

Juno sighed again and started scrubbing the landing gear. It was priority, and the engine filters could wait until she found a ladder.

Starkiller moved through the silent ship with a little loneliness creeping in. His master had always been here, his dark aura stretching through the ship, a calming influence always an undertone. It was hard to explain to anyone but himself. He knew Juno's opinion of Vader. She did not like him, but few did. Even the only Admiral to report directly to Vader for fifteen years, unscathed, disliked him on some level.

He couldn't blame them. Vader was a commanding man, with little tolerance for failure. But he knew how to reward loyalty. Juno could see that, at least. Her feelings were an open book to Starkiller. Admittedly, most of the book was in a language only females could hope to understand, but he understood that she was pleased to be here — working personally for Vader, of course. There was something else there, blocked and misty in the Force, but there nonetheless.

Starkiller hated not having anything to do. He had wandered this hallway two times in a row now, passing the same R2 unit and its fellow mouse droid again in under an hour. He had circled the command tower base as a jog for training and then decided that meditation would be a good idea.

The only problem was that he knew he would not be able to. For some odd reason, Juno kept popping into his mind. Starkiller shook his head to clear it. No, meditation was impossible. He had passed Vader's tests; he had shown he was ready. Admittedly, he should be meditating, or enlisting PROXY's help in tactics and stratagems to face the Emperor, but he could not calm down. Things kept assaulting his brain, and the strangest things, too.

Shaak Ti's words still hammered at his thoughts, Juno fading in and out as she pleased, and then Vader's… attitude of late. Vader controlled himself with an iron fist, a steel grip, but Starkiller had sensed things at night hours, when he woke in cold sweats, knowing his Master was awake, and somehow they had the same feeling of dread on them. But Starkiller could never remember those dreams. Others were vivid recreations of his past missions, and he remembered them perfectly.

Starkiller sighed and slumped down the wall, letting his head bang noisily against the bulkhead. His mind was so overrun with emotions and thoughts… he needed to do something to clear it. He needed to focus on something that was not meditation to gain any leverage over his rampant mind. He needed… needed… to work. Train with a lightsaber, or a vibroblade, by the Force he would try his hand at pistol practice, _anything_ to get his thoughts away for a few minutes.

"Juno," he muttered. He remembered PROXY saying something about her scoring top marks in all her classes at the Academy. Which included pistol practice. That was something that had nothing to do with his current dilemma, and any kind of skill was useful, even if blasters were a crude weapon compared to the art that was lightsaber combat.

Starkiller got up and headed for the hanger. He could sense a strong presence of frustration — leading to anger — from there, and seeing as the only other living presence on the ship was Juno, that was where she would be.

Entering the hanger, Starkiller saw Juno perched on top of the _Rogue Shadow_, swearing loudly and creatively at what — as far as he could make out from the curses — seemed to be a mud stain.

Then she stood, slipped, and fell to floor.

Juno knew it would hurt. The ten to fifteen meter drop was enough to break her bones. She was braced for the pain — much like a TIE pilot braces for the impact of lasers that will end your life in less than a heartbeat — and was perfectly fine with dying. TIE pilots learned acceptance fast.

So Juno was surprised and mildly confused when she froze in midair. Her confusion turned to anger as she flipped around by her feet, hanging head down, and saw her savior/tormentor walking calmly over to her.

"I suppose you think this is funny?" she snapped at him.

Starkiller knelt so they were on eye level. "Yeah."

"Can you put me down now?"

"Maybe."

Juno sighed. The one time she slips and falls, the one time he is there to save her, and the one time he is in a playful mood, it had to be now. "Please, put me down," she said, knowing by his smirk he was enjoying this far too much.

Starkiller placed a hand on top of — or, at this point, under — her head, and twisted her head gently from side to side. "You just answered your own question."

Juno blinked, her vision getting red and heady. "Could you… ah…"

"Put you down?"

"…Hmm? Yeah, that." It was getting harder to think.

Starkiller smiled and suddenly Juno found herself in his arms, being gently placed on the ground, a steadying hand on her shoulder. "All I was looking for was a thank you," he said.

"Thank you."

"Was that so hard?"

Juno leaned against the landing ramp, slipped again and sat heavily on the ramp.

"Evidently," Starkiller smirked, "as you find standing on level ground hard enough."

"Oh, shut up," Juno snarled. "I got dizzy — because of you holding me upside down."

Starkiller sat down next to her. "What were you doing?"

"Cleaning our ship."

"Our?"

Juno didn't miss a beat. "I deem that you have put enough into her to own part of her."

"I am honored."

"Most of it creative smells from Raxus Prime and Felucia."

"Hazards of occupation."

"What are you doing here?" Juno asked, picking up a rag and wiping her hands clean of grime. "I am not sappy enough to think it was Fate that saved me."

"There is no Fate, only the Force," Starkiller said, with the air of one who knows all. "And in this case you were right. It was the Force that saved you."

"Thanks."

"Maybe you can do something to repay me?" Starkiller asked, his sentence trailing off as Juno's emotions suddenly skyrocketed into shock and… something Starkiller could not quite put his finger on. "Juno? Something wrong?"

"No, nothing," she squeaked. Squeaked? Starkiller and Juno frowned at each other.

"Juno, did you just—?"

"No," she interrupted. "Who do you — I mean, what can I help you with?"

Starkiller shrugged. "I was wondering if you could help me with some pistol practice."

"Why?" she asked, bluntly.

"Honestly… I need something to clear my head. Something simple and crude should be just the trick. And I am always looking to acquire new skills; never know when it might be handy."

"Blaster practice is simple and crude to you?"

Starkiller looked at her. "Have you seen a duel with lightsabers?"

"No."

"Have you seen a light-fight?"

"No."

"I thought—"

"I'm a pilot, Starkiller," Juno laughed, standing. "What makes you think I am any good with blaster pistols?"

"Your technical scores were first-rank marksman."

Juno rounded on him, trying to pull off mad and insulted that he looked at her records — again — but failed. Instead, she opted for the next thought: "What about PROXY? I thought he was programmed for combat."

"He is currently in the bowels of this Destroyer, plotting my demise," Starkiller said. He obviously found it funny. "I do not want him near me with blasters."

"Well, I would love to help," Juno said, grasping at the last straw and gripping it tight. She gestured at the metaphorical straw. "But I have to clean her up."

"The _Rogue Shadow_?" Starkiller glanced from Juno to the ship and back. "So when you're finished, you'll show me some pistol practice?"

"Sure. But it could take hours."

"No, it won't."

"Huh?"

Starkiller turned and spread his arms. He reached down, dove into the Force. He slipped paper thin layers of it under the clogging dirt and grime clinging to the ship. Once every subtle curve and sharp angle was covered, the dirt on top and the metal under the Force bubble, Starkiller expanded it, lifting the slime and grime from the surface.

Carefully he moved the trash to the side, clumping it into a ball and placing it in the residue storage compartment of the cleaning equipment.

He opened his eyes, and smirked. "Cleaner than when you got here."

He turned and headed for what would be the aft firing range, Juno following, childishly mimicking 'cleaner than when you got here'.

Juno had to say that it was comforting — no matter how slight — to know that there were two things she was better at than Starkiller. Piloting and blasters. That did not mean he was not good, or that he did not learn fast. But he always pulled his shots left or right, low or high, and the Force did not help against energy targets.

The tracer pinged against the blaster resistant metal, and she smirked as Starkiller breathed through his nose. It was odd that after only a week, they knew each other's idiosyncrasies, like him covering frustration — or suppressing it — with steady, forceful breathing. At least, she knew his, and she was never going to ask him if he knew hers, because… well, that was just awkward.

Starkiller aimed down the blaster and closed one eye. The shot clipped the edge of the target. "This would be so much easier if they were real," he muttered, pulling another shot to the left.

"It helps if you do not jerk the trigger," Juno supplied, raising and leveling her own pistol at the target. The laser sent the head shimmering into holo-static.

"Yes, Master," PROXY said from the door, making both of them jump. "Proper sniping procedures are to line up the shot, calibrate it for perfection, and then to _squeeze_ the trigger."

"PROXY," Starkiller said, detachedly, "I know you know about weapons, but Master programmed you for lightsaber combat, not these… these sluggish blasters."

"Ah, but Master, after you bested me without your lightsaber, but a mere 'sluggish' vibroblade, I deemed it plausible that you could learn other weapons just as well. It was to even the playing field that I updated my programming with modern firearm procedures."

"Then why haven't you attacked me with a blaster?"

"You showed such proficiency at dispensing with ranged opponents, that I saw it as pointless at this time."

"That and you don't have the space," Juno added, eyeing the skeletal droid. She didn't know where it kept the lightsabers either.

"What do you want, PROXY?" Starkiller asked, trying to suppress a chuckle.

"Lord Vader contacted the ship. I said I would find you."

Starkiller's carefree face vanished, his handsome, boyish features becoming those of a predator once more. "Connect, PROXY."

"At once."

Juno stepped to the side, not wanting to intrude on the conversation. A new mission, perhaps? She knew Vader had contacted him like this before.

PROXY's imaged faded under a black holo-visage of Darth Vader. Even without his actual presence, Juno found him terrifying.

Starkiller knelt. "Master."

"I have received word that Master Shaak Ti is dead."

"Of course, Master."

"Then it is time. Report to me in the bridge."

"At once, Master," Starkiller said, his tone suddenly jubilant.

PROXY shut down the connection, staggering from the power drain. Starkiller caught him.

"It… it looks like you are about to fulfill your primary programming, Master," the droid said, holding its head in a strangely human manner.

"Yes… finally," Starkiller murmured. He turned to Juno. "Juno, take PROXY to the _Rogue Shadow_. Wait for me there. If — when everything goes according to plan, I want you here, as the New Empire rises."

"What New Empire? Starkiller, what are you talking about?" Juno exclaimed, staggering under the weight of PROXY, as the Sith dashed from the room.

"His primary program," PROXY muttered, his logistics flickering. "Deleting… Emperor…" A faint hum of supplementary power cells accompanied the silence.

Starkiller strode up behind Vader, anticipation barely suppressed. He stood by his master, knowing the Dark Lord would speak first.

"He has come," Vader said, his voice more hollow than usual.

"You have lured him to us?" Starkiller asked, incredulous. "When do we strike?"

"I did not summon him."

Everything is a dream, slow and yet too fast. The door hisses open, revealing the shrouded, hunched form of the Emperor. The Apprentice spins around, Vader following suit. Vader's crimson blade stabs through Starkiller's gut. The pain is incredible.

"His spies followed you here," says Vader.

The Apprentice sags to the floor, barely keeping consciousness.

_Poor boy, the Sith always betray one another._

"What is your bidding, my Master?" Vader asks the Emperor, as if there is no young man on the floor, writhing in pain.

"You have forgotten your place, Lord Vader," the Emperor snarls. "By taking this… boy as your apprentice, you have betrayed me." He says it in a disappointed voice, not harsh or evil, but dismayed. It is a false voice. It turns to truth as it grows coarse and snarling. "Strike him down and prove your loyalty to me. Do it!"

"Master," the Apprentice gasps. "We _can_ defeat him together. "

Vader looks from one to the other, and back.

"Do it, Lord Vader! Strike him down!"

"Master, please…"

Vader reaches through the Force — a flash of unwanted memory drawing his anger and fear forth, powering his rage — and grips his apprentice, throwing him into a wall. The boy screams as his body is thrown around like a toy. He slams into another wall and he slides down, consciousness leaving him.

"Yes, yes! Kill him, Lord Vader! Kill him!"

But he feels the last pain; that of his snapping spine. Then the shattering glass and cold embrace of space and death.

Vader watched his master. The Emperor turned slowly and hobbled away, leaving Vader with suppressed emotions that neither of them could sense.

Juno walked down the ramp to meet the clatter of combat boots. She was about to come to attention for the stormtrooper commander, but froze as a blaster carbine jabbed into her face.

"Hands behind your head, traitor."

"Wha—?"

"I said 'hands behind your head'!" His hand came down hard across her face. Juno fell to the cold deck, stunned. What? Traitor? But she was loyal to the Empire. She was loyal to her family.

"Lord Vader." The soldiers snapped to attention.

Juno felt her body choke with fear. It was unreasonable, but he inspired it. Fear bred in the folds of his cloak and permeated the air wherever he swept. Then she actually started to choke. Juno was lifted into the air and pinned against the _Rogue Shadow_'s hull, Vader standing not two feet away, holding her in the Force. She had often wondered what it looked like, to influence the Force. Now she was getting first-hand lessons.

"You will be detained for your traitorous actions, Pilot," he rasped. She fell to the ground, coughing. Vader turned away.

If Juno had one failing, it was her defiance. "What… what actions? I've done everything you asked."

"Silence, traitor," the stormtrooper commander snarled from behind the bone white helmet, as he gripped her arms and hauled her to her feet. Another trooper snapped restraints on her wrists.

Vader stopped and for a second Juno thought he was going to snap her in half right there. But he seemed to deflate — so infinitely slight that she had to have imagined it — and turned slightly, to look at her over his shoulder. Then he turned forward again. "He's dead. You will be made useful, to redeem yourself of what little you can." He strode out of the hanger, leaving Juno limp in the troopers' arms.


	8. Chapter 7 The Empire's Falling Down

_**Thanks again for you reviews. While I do have my own ideas for where this story is going, I think I will do a Sith ending as a separate story. I thought it was very powerful, emotionally.**_

_**Again, any suggestions on missions would be nice, as would any criticism on the writing. **_

_**Quick Note: this is the last completely true-to-canon chapter. After this I get to be… creative. Not that I wasn't before, but chapters eight onward all get a swift kick in the pants and a change of clothes.**_

_**That was weird, but I believe in writing without fully planning, so there it is. Now… why are you still reading this?**_

**The Empire's Falling Down**

Juno could see the irony in her transportation to the ISS _Empirical_ in her own ship. PROXY was sitting in the co-pilot's chair, ignoring her. The pilot sitting in the pilot's couch — _her_ seat — was a young man, who was disturbingly similar to Starkiller. Strong cut features and shaved head. Well built, but athletically so. She had not caught his name, and he had not offered anything in the way of recognition.

Her arms ached from being bent behind her back and chair. Her rank insignia had been cruelly ripped from her jacket and shoved down the top of her undershirt by one of the stormtroopers. He and his buddy thought it hilarious. She had spat on them and received another punch in the jaw for her defiance.

But it was an act. She was torn. Her only real family — the Empire and its pilots, the Imperial Navy — had turned on her and called her traitor. Her father would hate her even more than he already did. All she had wanted was love. All she got was war, loss, and abandonment for her reward.

Juno sagged, refusing to let her grief take over.

The _Rogue Shadow_ landed in the hanger with a jolt, compared to Juno's landings. Then strange technicians started to invade every part of the prototype. Juno was dragged down the ramp. She pulled herself up and marched past the black-masked technicians, with the air that she owned the place, and knew more about the ship than they could ever hope to understand.

Her binders were unlocked and she was shoved into her cell. She remained stoic until she was sure the cell was unobserved and no one was around. Then she pulled her Captain's rank from her shirt and looked at it. Her family… had abandoned her. Twice. Once her father and now her surrogate Imperial family.

In her mind's eye she could see him. Her squadmate right after graduation — the one her father had not attended. He had idolized her, loved her. He was envious but supporting when she made Captain. He had gladly followed orders. He had followed them to his death.

Juno gritted her teeth and threw the insignia to the ground. Her booted foot smashed down, her anger and frustration ripping at her insides, tearing its way out. Hot tears streaked her face as she stomped the last fragment of her perfect family into broken shards. Then she sagged into a back corner, and curled into a tight ball. They had beaten her, broken her. There was nothing to live for now, no reason to exist.

She cried herself to sleep that night.

"Lord Vader, he is waking up." The voice was mechanical and smooth, that of a medical droid. He wondered slightly why he was receiving treatment if he was dead.

"Keep him restrained."

Why was he hearing if he was dead? Why was he dead again? Right… he had been broken and tossed out into hard vacuum by… Vader.

Starkiller opened his eyes, screaming.

He thrashed in his restraints, the medical lab and droid mere background to his pain and confusion. He needed to focus, his mind told him, something to direct anger at, something to regulate the sudden memories flooding his brain.

Darth Vader stood calmly, imperiously, at the foot of the slanted examination table.

"You," the Apprentice exploded. "You killed me!"

"No," Vader replied, as if it was another simple lesson. "The Emperor wanted you dead. I salvaged your body and brought you here. To be rebuilt."

"Why?" Starkiller snarled.

"The Emperor needed to believe you were dead. Now you can face your destiny."

Starkiller stared at him, his mind flooding with faces, thoughts, ideas.

… _your future is…me_

Kota.

_Poor boy…_

Shaak Ti.

_Kill him, Lord Vader!_

The Emperor.

_What New Empire?_

Juno.

_Slave… you are his slave._

… himself.

Starkiller sighed, lying back on the examination table. He had been betrayed by the man he had trusted for fifteen years of his life. That man had saved him. What happened to Juno? Why do I doubt Vader — no, Master. Why do I doubt Master? Why do I _doubt_, Master?

_Father? Who are you? Who am I? Why am I?_

Traitor.

Savior.

_Master_…

He opened his eyes. "What is thy bidding, my Master?" he snarled bitterly.

Vader did not flinch when his apprentice threw the Dark Lord's words back at him. Instead, he continued. "The Emperor's spies watch my every move. You must create a distraction." He raised a gloved hand and pressed a small red button.

The Apprentice felt terror flood him, a paranoid sense of further betrayal. But the restraints clinked open, and Starkiller sighed. He sat up, rubbing his wrists. "What kind of distraction? An assassination?" he asked, hoping to return to what he knew, what he did best. The voices of dead Jedi chanting in his head faded. He was home. His master needed him once more.

"No single act will attract the Emperor's attention. You must raise an army to oppose him."

"An army?" Starkiller asked, incredulous.

"Yes. An alliance of rebels and dissidents. Rally the Emperor's enemies and oppose him. Then we will strike, and rule the galaxy."

Starkiller sighed and shook his head, hopping off the table. "Where do I start?"

"Your destiny is now your own. Leave all your ties to the Empire and your past behind. No one must know you are still loyal to me. No one must know you still serve me."

"Yes, my Master."

"Remember," Vader said, raising a cautionary finger. "The Dark Side is always with you." Then his image flickered and dissipated, revealing PROXY.

"PROXY?" Starkiller cried, gripping the droid and helping him stand.

"Ah, Master. It is good to know you are not dead. I was afraid I would not be able to kill you myself."

"Hmph," Starkiller grunted, smiling. "Well I'm sure you'll get the chance."

"Yes, but before I do," PROXY said, making for the door. "I am to do everything possible to aid in your escape. Do you wish me to prepare the _Rogue Shadow_ for launch?"

"Yeah, you do that. I'll catch up with you," Starkiller said, distractedly.

"Very well, Master."

Starkiller waited for the droid to leave, before he took careful stock of his surroundings. His belongings — save his lightsaber — were few and safely on board the _Rogue Shadow_,. His lightsaber would be close by, probably in one of the crates by the blast doors. Outside of the containment cylinder he was in, Starkiller knew very little about science vessels, and even less about Vader's private science ships, but the vents in the floor were a hint that if anything got out of containment, fire teams were the second resort, poison gas the first.

He looked around for an energy module, one that provided power for the whole room. Finding it to his right, he searched the inside of the cell.

"Hey, PROXY?" Starkiller asked over the commlink he'd found under the examination table.

"Yes, Master?"

"What about Juno?"

"The pilot? Ah, yes, she's aboard, I believe. In a holding cell. She was declared a traitor and is being held in the detention block on the ISS _Empirical_, our current location." He paused and then continued, his metallic voice holding a sly, smug tone, "You're not thinking of saving her, are you? Your master explicitly said to sever all ties to your past."

"I… I don't know yet, PROXY. Give me a minute. Just get the ship ready."

"Very well, Master. I will access the ship's main computer, and try and give you more intelligence reports."

"Uh… thanks, PROXY."

Starkiller looked through the glass at the power conduit, but the reflective and undulating glass prevented him concentrating properly. As did the buzzing and ringing being piped in from the ceiling. Vader certainly made it hard to get out. Everything a test. But this was easy.

Starkiller thought for a moment, considering his options. He could smash the containment field and run for the hatch, but more than likely a containment breach would cycle the locks closed. If he could detach the power, then he could open the doors in his own time, instead of trying to force them open with the Force while inhaling toxic gas. So it was back to the power conduit, which was outside his cell, blocked from him using the Force by specially designed glass.

He sighed, the last clean breath he would take for a minute — and possibly ever, if the power did not shut off the toxins — and reached out in the Force. It was a simple idea. Build up Force energy and then release it in a bubble. Simple, however, was the most effective, as it had saved his life more than once on Felucia.

The burst shattered the glass and the metal frame wilted like dead plants before the wave of Force energy. The screaming of bent metal was a lullaby compared to the klaxons that accompanied the stinking gas, issuing up from the floor.

Starkiller coughed. Thinking about _not_ inhaling toxic fumes, never helped against inhaling them, so he concentrated on the power conduit. A bit too hard, as it turned out.

"At least I stopped the gas," Starkiller muttered, looking at the ten meter long, two ton power channel, lying half in, half out of, its housing. Oh well, technically the Empire was now supposed to be his enemy, so doing as much damage as possible seemed like a good idea.

"Alert," yelled a speaker, in the clipped precise tone of an imperial officer, from the top of the chamber. "Specimen containment field in sector three has malfunctioned. All squads prepare to investigate."

"Yay," Starkiller said, blandly lifting a crate and drifting it over to him. "More stormtroopers. Whoop-de-do."

They offered such little resistance. Starkiller almost felt pity for them. Almost, because they _were_ shooting at him.

He picked his lightsaber out of the crate and looked down at the small pouch. He had almost forgotten the crystals he had collected from Kota, Pratus and Shaak Ti's lightsabers. He picked them up and gazed at the myriad colors. Blue, green, sapphire, red and indigo.

He clipped them to his belt, feeling that he should take them.

Then he heard it.

"Check out that noise. I think Lord Vader's experiment just got loose."

Starkiller recognized it as a stormtrooper. They were here. He ignited his lightsaber, its red sheen lighting the way.

He slid the doors open with a wave of his hand and walked calmly forward. He blasted the next door apart, catching a white-clad stormtrooper in the chest. There were a few inarticulate moans from the stormtroopers, before their commander rallied them.

"Don't just sit there, you mynocks! Blast him!"

Starkiller caught a blaster bolt on his lightsaber and dashed to the side, taking cover. That put some fight into the enemy; seeing their target run. They started to move up, carefully, their allies laying down cover fire. Starkiller shook his head in mock despair. Starship windows were so fragile.

He gripped the crate and blasted it into the window. The stormtroopers vanished, as did a large chunk of the air in the hallway before the safe-shield closed. Starkiller stood up and ran down the hallway. Cleaner than slicing them up, at least.

Admiral Korynn glanced at the Storm-Commando as the trooper placed a hand to his helmet. Then the trooper looked at the admiral.

"Sir, there are reports of blaster fire and a massive decompression in sector three. I need to get you back to the _Director._ Now, sir."

"Very well, trooper." Korynn turned back to the prisoner. "I guess the experiment will have to wait, Miss Eclipse. Until next time." The young woman looked up. She spat weakly at him. Korynn didn't move, the small glob of saliva spattering onto his boot. "Not very lady-like." He smiled. "Then I guess I do not need to be a gentleman."

Juno had been punched by stormtroopers and dragged around the ship for two days without food or water. The Admiral's back-handed slap surprised her. It was hard not to sob from the pain mixed with despair. She felt blood well up in her mouth and her throat constrict.

He turned and strode away, calling over his shoulder to the _Empirical's_ captain. "By the way, Captain… good job with the Purge Troopers. The Dark Trooper project has fallen behind schedule again. _Your_ project is likely to get that funding you requested."

"Thank you, Admiral," the Captain said, smiling with pride. "I was sure to send you a full report — with schematics — to your ship just before you arrived."

"Excellent, Captain. I like a man who is on the ball. Remember that."

As the Admiral left, Juno sagged.

An officer turned from the intercom display. "Captain. Sector three is out of contact. Last commlink communication said the subject had escaped. Sector nine's bulkhead doors were locked, but are now reporting critical failure."

"Blast it," the Captain muttered. He activated the intercom. "Security breach in sector nine. Subject One-one-three-eight has escaped. Set blasters to kill."

"Forget the specimens. We have to get out of here."

Starkiller smiled at the closed door. He could sense five men on the other side. Panicky men.

The blast smashed the doors in, bending them as if they were mere flimsyplast. Starkiller gripped one of the troopers and sent him careening across the room, to connect with a sickening crunch against the wall.

The imperial officer raised a shaking pistol. Starkiller reflected the badly aimed shot back into the man, and watched as the grey suit blackened, as the artificial gravity pulled him over the edge, and snapped the corpse's neck on the metal below.

Then shards of searing blue shattered over Starkiller's head, making him roll to the right.

"Get him," yelled a stormtrooper. Starkiller did not recognize them as regulars. Another burst of felletché bounded off the walls. Starkiller snarled. He hated this. He was a Sith Apprentice. He had defeated the strongest the Jedi had to offer. He would not be intimidated by stormtroopers.

He reached down, feeling for the power he knew was there, but had not dared use yet. Not any more than the briefest of discharges, at least.

He felt the intense energy leaping up his arms, down his spine. He channeled it down to his fingers and then turned the corner, letting the lightning leap out and cascade down into the troopers.

The lightning did not seem to faze them. In fact, they knelt, rifles raised above their heads, lightning dancing along the prongs.

"Oh, come on," Starkiller snarled, ducking back around the corner, feeling the stun bolts nip at his feet as the redirected lightning shot along the metal floor. A medical robe's boots were not made to prevent shocks.

He glanced around and noticed the cell blocks littering the room in orderly rows. He smiled. They should have made them shatter proof. Glass shards made perfect weapons. He leapt out and sent a shockwave through the Force into a cell, knocking a trooper back and into the glass. He landed and blasted a second trooper into another cell. He whipped around and planted a kick into another enemy. The Force-powered lunge broke more than the man's ribs.

Starkiller grabbed the last trooper and hurled him into another cell. Whatever was contained in that one was vicious. A cloud of yellowish mist swarmed the body; the man's screams the only sound he made before the armor crumpled to the ground, empty.

Starkiller eyed this for a moment. "I think I should get going," he muttered to no one in particular.

He headed for the door, and blasted it open. He paused on the other side. He then forced the doors back into their original position, bending them so that they were airtight and impossible to shift. No sense in inviting whatever _that_ was to come after him.

"Alert! Ship navigation systems have malfunctioned. Repeat, ship navigation systems have malfunctioned."

Starkiller felt the ship rock, as the intercom blared this alarming news.

"PROXY, what did you just do?" Starkiller asked, hoping against all hope that whatever the droid was going to say was not what Starkiller thought it was.

PROXY's response was all cheer. "I set the _Empirical_ on a collision course with a nearby star."

"You what?"

"It seemed like the quickest way to wipe out all witnesses. Lord Vader did specify no one must know of your continued existence."

Starkiller snorted, sliding to a stop outside of another pair of blast doors. "I knew you were still trying to kill me."

"No, no… not yet anyway. You should have plenty of time to reach the _Rogue Shadow_ before we reach that star."

"How long?"

"Approximately… thirteen minutes and twenty-nine seconds. Galactic standard time, of course."

Starkiller sighed and reached out a hand. "He _is_ trying to kill me," he said, peevishly.

The door crumpled.

A hail of blaster fire concentrated on the violently opened door.

"You entered the code correctly? Try again," a stormtrooper commander yelled to his sergeant over the whine of blaster carbines.

The sergeant turned to his commander, irritably. "I've tried twice. It's not working."

"Try again!"

A bolt of lightning leapt from the doorway, frying the control panel for the escape pods. The sergeant didn't have to worry any more. His body became instant ashes in the intense heat of the escape pod engines.

Starkiller ran out, slashed a trooper across the middle with his saber and blasted another one into the wall. He sent another blast into the catwalk, and then sent arcs of lightning into the other escape pods. There were a few fizzes as troopers met very hot ends.

Starkiller did not bother searching out his targets. Ten to one, PROXY had overridden the override and placed incredibly complex passcodes on them. It would take hours to reroute the system, and no one had hours anymore.

Instead he dashed for the door, a shockwave of Force energy preceding him, parting the doors easily.

Did they really think locking blast doors would be enough to slow him, let alone stop him?

The intercom sounded again as he rounded the corridor and froze. It was an odd moment. The squad of stormtroopers stared at him as he stared at them, all of them listening to rather flustered Captain.

"All escapes pods have been jettisoned," he said, a little nervous and confused. "Er… empty. Ah… await… await further orders."

The stormtrooper commander looked at his sergeant. "Oh, that's not good."

Starkiller shot past them, the Force wave slamming them into the bulkheads.

"PROXY," Starkiller asked, running down the hall as fast as possible. Less then ten minutes now. "Did you launch the pods?"

"Of course, Master. It pays to be thorough," PROXY responded, as if it were common logic.

Starkiller could feel Juno's presence, not too far away. Just beyond the next set of locked doors. He grinned. No door would stop him.

This time the doors buckled and spread, the power of the blast almost ripping them from the housing.

Indeed, no door could stop him. The two troopers on the other side couldn't either. Of course, those two troopers flanked a seven foot robot stormtrooper, who was sealing the bridge doors closed. It turned.

"Target: One-one-three-eight. Order: destroy on sight. Locking in target."

"Oh, _fierfek_."

It was a swear he'd learned from Juno, and it was really quiet accurate for this situation. As was the missile the mechanized trooper fired.

Instinctively, Starkiller raised his arms, a small pulse in the Force detonating the projectile just before it reached him. The explosion was still enough to send him flying into the wall, and leave a sizable dent in it.

"Master," PROXY said from somewhere at his belt. "Hurry. We are rapidly approaching the sun." For once, the droid seemed nervous. Starkiller would have found it funny if he was not being shot at by a giant robot with missiles and had less then six minutes before crashing into said sun.

He slid under the next missile, the explosion actually carrying him into the room.

The two stormtroopers looked at each other.

"I really like these new Purge Troopers," one said.

"The Dark Trooper project is supposed to be more flexible," the other replied.

Starkiller found himself hoisted from the ground and then hurled down again.

"Give me power over flexibility any day," the first trooper said. They obviously felt very safe in the presence of their Purge Trooper.

Sadly, they were not.

Starkiller gripped both of them, and hurled them back, crushing them into the Purge Trooper's chest. Starkiller spun up on one knee and unleashed the power of the Force on the robot. Lightning coursed along his arms and out his fingers, smoke rising from the robot's inner workings. The Purge Trooper shuddered and jerked as electricity overloaded the primitive circuits.

The Sith turned away, sending a massive pulse into the half sealed doorway.

Starkiller ran onto the bridge.

"Juno!"

She was there, hanging from grav-bindings in the center of the bridge. Behind a laser gate.

"The traitor dies with the rest of us," the Captain cried. "Don't let him reach her!"

"Try and stop me." Starkiller felt something stir in him as he saw Juno, hanging there, limp, defenseless, and possibly dead, or dying. It was unlike the power of the Dark Side, but what it was he had no idea.

But it _was_ strong.

There were troopers all over, and two more Purge Troopers on the lower deck, near a pair of main power conduits. But it was not enough. Nothing was ever enough to stop the power of the Force.

Starkiller gripped the two power nodes and pulled them out of their housing, launching them through the bridge walkways. Still coursing energy surged through the Purge Troopers, staggering them and sending them down. The regular troopers and their officers were engulfed in falling metal and two massive nodes that crashed into them.

Starkiller, not caring if they were dead or not, bolted for Juno. She had fallen from the grav-bindings as the power went out, and Starkiller worried for a moment that she was already dead. But as he gathered her up in his arms, she looked weakly at him.

"Vader said you were dead," she murmured, as if it were a dream, one that would end too quickly. "But… you came back." She looked away. "I've been branded a traitor to the Empire," she said, as if it were the deepest of sins.

"It doesn't matter," Starkiller said, already running for the lift to the hanger. "I don't care about any of that. I'm leaving the Empire behind."

Two minutes.

"PROXY!"

"Yes, Master…? Ah, the pilot _did_ make it. I am pleased."

Starkiller bounded up the ramp, as the air around them got hotter and hotter. "Get us out of here, PROXY. Now!"

"Yes, Master."

The ramp closed and Starkiller laid the semi-conscious Juno on the fold out bunk in the training room, feeling the _Rogue Shadow_ rumble under his feet. He strapped Juno down and headed out of the room and into the cockpit.

"PROXY?"

"Master, we have made it out of the sun's gravity well. We can engage hyperdrive. Where to?"

Starkiller sighed and slumped against the wall. Then a thought hit him. "The _Empirical_?"

"Ah, yes… you might want to hold onto something, Master."

"Huh?"

The shockwave rolled over them, and if they had needed a push, the frigate's detonation was the only one they needed.

Admiral Korynn watched from the bridge of the ISS _Director_ — as its sister ship dived into the sun — an interested look on his face, the look that one had when watching a live specimen dissection.

"Any pods?" he asked idly as the sun's plasma devoured the frigate's hull.

"None, sir," the officer said. "But there was a ship departure. Unknown classification. Closest ID is a YT-Bulk carrier, but it moved too fast to be a junk mover."

Admiral Korynn smiled. His officers and even the Storm-Commando looked away. The Admiral's smile was… unnerving. Especially since it accompanied things like dissections, torture and 'creative experimentation'.

"Really? Fascinating." Korynn looked at the fuzzy holo-image of the escaping vessel. "Very fascinating, indeed."


	9. Chapter 8 The Star in the Dark

_**Starkiller's polite personality shall be explained. At least my version. It didn't irk me as much as it should have, mainly because the game is action orientated, not character based. They could not really build characters solidly, and had to make jumps in characterization. That is why we of the Fanfiction site exist. To write what others could not, that others would not, that others dared not. We give voices to the voiceless. ("I was going for a kind of epic feel with that one" – Barnard the Bard, **_**Fable II.) **

_**I realized after I posted Chapter 7: The Empire's Falling Down, that the Purge Troopers were actually **_**part**_** of the Dark Trooper Project. If this annoyed anyone, tell me and I will fix it. If not, I am going to be using my creative license to change it so it is the **_**Purge**_** and **_**Dark**_** Projects. I am also throwing in the **_**Black Saber **_**Project, but you'll hear about that later.**_

**The Star in the Dark**

Starkiller jerked awake. It had been one of those dream… vision… things again. He could not remember it; only its sense of dread, of hatred, of betrayal.

He shook his head and rubbed his eyes, yawning. Yawning? He had not really slept in… fifty hours? Maybe not, but it had been a long time, he was sure of that. Even restless sleep was better then meditation comas.

He looked around the room. The training room made up more than half of the _Rogue Shadow_, with the landing ramp past a small door opposite the cockpit door and hallway, which were also small. The refresher was opposite him, across fifteen or so meters of cold metal. Cots slid out of the wall to serve as the sleeping and food processor area.

These thoughts struggled around Starkiller's brain for a second or two as he collected himself. He decided that it was okay to be a bit out of it for once. You didn't come back from the dead every day, after all.

He fell back, a dreamy pointless smile coming across his face.

Suddenly, something occurred to him as being… _off_. He blinked and then bolted upright, making for the cockpit.

"Ah, good morning, Master. Did you sleep well?"

Starkiller ignored PROXY and spun Juno's chair around. She smiled at him. "Starkiller."

"What are you doing up?" he demanded.

She shrugged. "You had it harder than me. I got to lie around for two days, while you were… well, dead. Go and get some sleep, Starkiller."

He gently, but quickly, grabbed her arm. She winced. "You are not fine, Juno."

"Yes, I am," she said through gritted teeth, obviously suppressing pain.

"No, you're not."

"I am."

"Not."

"Am."

They glowered at each other. Starkiller sighed and let her arm drop. "Fine."

"Good."

"But I do not need any rest. I am just as fine as you."

She nodded. "Sure."

PROXY got up and discreetly left. Well, as discreetly as clanking droid feet can be.

Starkiller sat down, and stared at the blank space before them, small stars dispersed at random. "Where are we?" he asked at long length.

"That's what I was trying to figure out. Who programmed the jump? It's taken me four hours to un-muddle everything," Juno said, waspishly.

"Four hours? Why didn't anyone wake me?"

Juno turned and smiled sadly. "You looked too peaceful to disturb."

Starkiller's ready retort died on his lips, his mouth open and slack. He had not expected that.

Juno turned away, concentrating on non-existent data. "You… you were betrayed by the man you trusted for fifteen years of your life. Then you come back from the dead." She passed a lock of blonde hair over her ear. "I couldn't bear to disturb you. It looked like you were having a real nice dream. At peace for once."

Starkiller sat back and stared at her for a long time. Well… that just threw another hydro-spanner in the hyperdrive. That feeling was back, not as strong as on the _Empirical_, but there. And he didn't know what it meant. It reminded him of that other feeling he had gotten from time to time when he was younger, studying under Vader. Not exact, but close enough to remind him vividly of it.

Juno sighed, heavily.

"What's wrong?" Starkiller asked, and was surprised to find it a real question, where he really wanted to know, not just expected an answer because it was an order.

"I'm lost," Juno said, her good humor suddenly vanishing. "I have the entire galaxy in front of me, endless stars and for once… I don't know where to go, what to do. I hope you have a plan."

Starkiller looked out of the viewport, seeing, and yet not seeing, the millions of pin-prick lights.

"We need to rally the Empire's enemies. And I need to find someone to teach me what Vader couldn't."

"Sounds like we're still hunting Jedi," Juno said, smiling.

…_Vader won't always be your Master. I can sense your future and all I sense is… me…_

"And I think I might know one that might still be alive," Starkiller said, snapping his fingers.

"General Kota?" Juno guessed. She had seen the bursts of light from the other two Jedi when they died. Kota had just vanished into the building valleys of Nar Shadda.

"Yes. When I fought him, he said he'd be a part of my future. Let's hope he was right. Head to Nar Shadda."

Juno waited for Starkiller to fall asleep — which was not too long; he had done a lot in a very small stretch of time — before getting carefully out of her seat. She headed into the training room to find PROXY at the food processor.

"PROXY? What are you doing?" she asked, eyeing the two trays.

"Ah, Capt— I mean, Miss Eclipse." PROXY turned and rubbed the back of his angular head in embarrassment. Juno shivered a little. It was weird to see a droid act so… _human_. "What can I do for you, Miss Eclipse?"

"You can call me Juno, PROXY. And you can answer my question."

"Ah, I was getting some biological supplements to refuel yours and Master's functions, Miss… Juno."

Juno scowled at the droid, sitting down on the sleeping slab. "PROXY… are you trying to poison Starkiller's food?"

"No."

"PROXY…"

"Yes."

Juno sighed. "PROXY, how long have you been trying to kill him?"

"For nine years, Miss Eclipse."

"Nine years... he was eleven!" Juno could not readily think of Starkiller as a child, but the mere thought of PROXY attacking a child with lightsabers had her head spinning.

"Miss Eclipse," PROXY said, picking up a tray and handing her the unappetizing mess, "Lord Vader programmed me to kill his apprentice. That is my primary program, my very existence for being. The mere fact that I have failed at this core programming for nine years should logically gain me more sympathy than my master. However, I understand that humans are completely irrational."

Juno laughed and then looked at the gooey black mess with small meat strips that made her breakfast. Resigned, she picked up her fork. And dropped it with a hiss as pain shot through her wrist. The grav-bindings had been on high for four hours while the _di'kut_ admiral and those scientists poked at her. The bruising would take weeks to heal.

"Thought you said you were fine."

Juno jumped as Starkiller spoke from the door.

"Ah, Master." PROXY raised the tray. "Care for some breakfast?"

"PROXY, your attempts are getting worse. Stick to trying to cut my head off."

"How did you see through it, Master?"

"PROXY you have made me breakfast once in my life. Luckily that was not poisoned, but I did get violently ill. I am always wary of food I do not prepare myself."

Starkiller looked down at the tray in Juno's lap and levitated a strip of nerf meat from the sauce. He licked the gooey black sauce off and ate the meat. Juno gagged. She knew what Imperial food tasted like, and that came from a Star Destroyer's supply. The much smaller _Rouge Shadow's_ stuff must taste worse than engine coolant.

"Then why were you not hesitant of Miss Eclipse's food, Master."

"Because it was hers. She was getting ready to eat it, she does not want to kill me, and you do not aim to kill anyone but me." Starkiller grinned, and then added, "And PROXY, can you lay off the attempts on my life a little? We are trying to keep our identities on the low side of things, and having a droid who is fluent in lightsaber techniques jumping out at me from around corners is not the way to be covert."

"Agreed, Master. I shall devise another plan."

"Thanks," Starkiller muttered as PROXY headed for his recharge station next to the cockpit door. Then he sat down on the slab next to Juno. "Let's see it."

"What?"

"The arm, Juno. What did you think I meant?"

Juno folded her arms.

"You just like being a bantha-headed twit, don't you?" Starkiller said.

Juno grinned.

"I could make you," he said, seriously.

"I know."

"So what makes you think I won't?"

She shrugged. "I don't."

Starkiller sighed. "You really aggravate me, you know?"

"Yes."

"Juno, I am not going to have an injured pilot getting me from place to place. It would be easier and less painful to fly myself."

"Then why did you rescue me?"

"I needed someone to fly the ship," he said, shrugging.

"But you just said—"

"Are you complaining about me saving… oh." He smirked.

"What?"

"You're mad that I saved you."

"No."

"I think you are." Starkiller held up his hands, stopping her retort. "But I don't care." He didn't turn, but the medical station next to them opened and a kit floated out to land in his hand. He put it down beside her. "Here, fix yourself up. Nothing wrong with feeling pain, as long as you use it. However, as you are not Sith or Jedi, it will only distract you. Bacta spray and gel is the blue-green stuff—"

"I know," Juno snapped, pulling off her black flight jacket and picking up the spray. "I did the same for you, once."

"I would offer to help," Starkiller said, still smirking, "but I'm better at causing injures than healing them."

Juno pulled the bacta spray's trigger and stinging warmth spread across her wrist. A thought struck her. "Starkiller?"

"Hmm?"

"How is it that you are nothing like Vader?"

"What do you mean?"

He tensed visibly, and Juno thought about not going on, just telling him to forget it. But she wanted to know. "You don't try to lord your power over others, you don't have irrational fits of rage. He murdered my Destroyer's captain, in front of the whole ship's crew, because he had failed to show proper respect or something. You're nothing like him."

"I've killed people," he said, in a strange voice, almost like he was agreeing and trying to defend his former master all at once.

Juno pressed on, finishing the other wrist. "But you're not… not… evil."

They looked at each other for a moment. Starkiller broke the silence. "I don't know." His eyes flicked away. "Can I tell you something, Juno?"

"Of course."

"A long time ago — when Vader first began teaching me advanced Sith arts — I got hurt, badly. He didn't care, not visibly, but I knew that he was worried. But it was so long ago, and so brief — that moment of pity and worry — that I convinced myself I had imagined it. But he isn't the monster he shows everyone. There is someone else there, someone buried deep.

"He did punish me for my failure, and that was the only night I cried myself to sleep. I hated him then. Why did he get mad at someone who didn't know anything, how could he punish me when I messed up because I didn't have the skills to master the technique? I was seven, I think. But when I did sleep… something calmed me, showed me his worry and pity. It kept me from hating him, truly and deeply hating him, all these years. I think he knew my thoughts on some level, but he never confronted me about them. Hatred and anger are the core power of the Dark Side, you see. If I didn't hate him, I wasn't a good Sith."

Starkiller took several deep breaths, a sudden weight lifted from him. Juno just stared.

"You actually think there is good in that man?" she asked, obviously unbelieving.

Starkiller shrugged. "It could have been wishful thinking. But…" he stopped and eyed her. Should he tell her that funny feeling was ten times stronger now? The one that told him Vader cared on some level. That back then it had only come to him in meditation and dreams, after some incredibly heinous act by his master, and now it was constant?

He opened his mouth to speak. Then PROXY rose from the recharge station. "Master. The _Rogue Shadow_'s computer tells me that we are five minutes from Nar Shadda.

Juno headed straight for the cockpit, Starkiller looking after her. It was just as well he had not told her. No reason to show weakness now, when she had even less to hang onto. All Juno had was the mission. Without a sense of purpose, like himself, she was lost, drifting.

So, after he had aided his master defeat the Emperor, what would be his purpose?

He put the tempest of thoughts aside. He would meditate on them later. Now, he had to find Kota.

The _Rogue Shadow_ drifted quietly down through the traffic of Nar Shadda. Juno glanced at Starkiller as they cruised slowly through the high atmosphere traffic.

"So… what's the plan?" she asked.

"… I thought you had one."

"Why would I have one?"

"Well, I'm a Sith trained assassin," he pointed out reasonably. "You are a normal Imperial pilot. This is a civilian area. See where I'm going?"

"Guess Vader wasn't big on social niceties."

"I was instructed to avoid all contact. That's not going to work anymore. I specialize in hiding, and killing people, not interacting with them."

Juno sighed. "Okay. Well, we need a place to land and refuel. A spacer cantina will have a free landing zone, but we don't have any credits. I am fairly certain my Imperial credit account was frozen when I was proclaimed a traitor, and I doubt Vader saw fit you give you an allowance."

"Allowance? What is — never mind. He did."

Juno's head whipped to him, and her vertebrae popped. "You're joking?" she asked, horrified, amazed and stunned all at once, rubbing her neck.

Starkiller looked at her. "No."

"He gave you an allowance?"

"Huh? No. A private credit account. He knew I would need credits at some point. It's a small amount but enough to refuel and restock."

"Vader wouldn't have yours frozen, too? Seeing as you're dead."

Starkiller got his working story straight fast. No one — _no one _— was to know he was still loyal to Vader. And he was loyal to his master. "Vader saved me."

"What?"

"He had me brought to the _Empirical_. He hoped that I would come back to him. Tried to appease me with some story about how it was just an elaborate trick on the Emperor, to get the old fool to think I was dead. When I refused to help him, he decided to keep me around as an experiment." A spark of inspiration came to him. "Something about the Black Saber Project."

"Black Saber?"

"I don't know details, but it had to do with the Force."

"Oh…"

Starkiller sighed inwardly. Good, she was distracted from the fairly fast story he'd made up. What was troubling was how easy it had been. As if it _was_ the truth.

"That's what the Admiral said he wanted to use _me_ for."

It was Starkiller's turn for his neck to pop. "What?"

"Admiral… something," Juno said, shaking her head. "He said that I would be a good subject for the project. That I would… serve as a useful test. It was still in the development process."

"Korynn?"

"Yeah, that's it." Juno looked at him. "You know him?"

"He is the only Admiral — scratch that, he's the only _person_ to have survived serving Vader personally for more than a year. Fifteen years to be exact. Never met him, but I saw him plenty of times. I always had a hunch that he knew about me."

"Why didn't Vader kill him?"

"Never let on. Or proved himself too useful. He was brilliant. Didn't lose a single ship all fifteen years. Including TIE Fighters. So I heard, at least."

"Heard?" she grinned. "From who?"

"PROXY."

"So it's reliable?"

"More than any other."

Starkiller sat back and watched as Juno took them down. Then he looked at his medical robes. He hadn't even thought about changing. But it would draw a bit too much attention to look like an escaped mental patient.

Then he noticed Juno, still in full Imperial Navy Officer uniform.

"We need to change," Juno said, as if reading his thoughts.

"Yeah. You can have one of my spare training gears."

"Oh, goody. Sweaty old training gear."

"Would you rather be seen as an Imperial Officer on a world where you'll get blasted for looking like one, or would you rather use one of mine?"

"I would prefer neither—"

"I think _that_ would be far from covert."

Juno blinked at him, face blank. "Not the one you wore on Felucia."

"Why?"

"You never did tell me how you got vomited on."

Starkiller grinned, getting up and heading aft. "Never Force push a Rancor in the stomach."

"Not a problem for me," Juno said, getting up and following him.

"This is a problem for me," Juno said, following Starkiller down the ramp.

He looked at her. "You look fine."

"Too fine. I'm liable to get dirty looks from most of Nar Shadda's cantina population. The kind of look that makes me shudder when I think what is going on in their heads."

Starkiller stopped and turned, running a critical eye over her. He had to agree with her statement. It was a very appealing costume for her. The loose pants — designed for him — had been cinched at the upper thigh and calf. Her white undershirt — now missing both sleeves — was not good at leaving things to the imagination, even with its respectably high square collar. Her blaster pistol — holster lashed to her hip with a strip of spare coolant tube — was there to keep those imaginations in line. Starkiller nodded. "You look like the kind of pilot that would get that attention."

"I don't _want_ that attention, Starkiller," she growled.

"Why not?" He laughed at her expression. "Relax. Why do you think I'm coming? I'll protect you."

Juno took two strides and led the way into the spacer's cantina. "I don't need protecting."

Starkiller grinned. She didn't, of course. Especially since she was entering the cantina with a man in Mandalorian armor. He felt an odd heat in his cheeks when he thought about what she had said.

_You look real imposing…_

The technical reason, of course, was that Kota had worn similar armor. If he was trotting around Nar Shadda posing as a Mandalorian, then pretending to be a fellow Mandalorian would appeal to Kota's friends, and intimidate his enemies.

They picked a table in the darkest corner — which was not hard; the place seemed to be made of dark corners — and eyed the occupants.

All were pretty nondescript. A Rodian and Auquesh sat in one corner, a Trandoshan and two humans sat in another. There were a few more aliens around, but what did catch Starkiller's eye was a strange pair in a fairly well-lit booth. A Wookie and young Imperial pilot, seemingly bickering in Wyyksh, the Wookie language.

"That is not normal," Starkiller murmured to Juno.

She smiled. "Then that's who we should talk to."

Starkiller nodded. "You do the talking. I'll stand behind you and look threatening."

Juno got up and walked over, Starkiller following close on her heels.

The young man looked up as his Wookie friend growled at them. He was a nervous man, as his hand immediately slapped on his blaster. "What do you want?" he snapped.

"Mind if me and my friend sit here?" Juno asked in a honeyed voice. Starkiller noticed it as the voice she'd used after his first mission, while picking glass from his back. The one that said 'I will get my way, and I am being nice about it.'

"Yes," the young man said. "I do mind."

"Why?" Juno asked, sitting down anyway.

"Because you're an Imperial pilot. Probably come to kill me for desertion."

Juno raised her eyebrows. Starkiller tensed. This wasn't good. If he could pick Juno out that easily then… wait did he just —

"You deserted?" Juno asked, not having to fake the incredulity.

"Yeah," the man said, with what Starkiller noticed as a Corellien accent. "Got tired of how they treat Wookie slaves. What do you want?"

"To talk. You seem to be a very knowledgeable person." Juno leaned over the table, smiling coyly.

The man didn't seem flustered. He did grin, though, and his hand slid away from the pistol. But not enough to put Starkiller at ease. "Well, you didn't say you weren't an Imperial. What's the catch?"

"Traitor," Juno said, bitterly. "My friend saved me from a prison camp on Kessel."

"Really," the man said sarcastically, obviously seeing something wrong with the story. The Wookie moaned. The man sighed. "Chewie tells me to be nice. I'm Han Solo, Miss…?"

"Starla," Juno said. "This is Starkiller."

"Really?" Han eyed Starkiller. "You don't look it, kid."

Starkiller smiled coldly. They had to be the same age, or one or two years difference.

"Man of few words," Han said. "Few drinks too, by the look of him. So… Starla, care for your buddy's share?"

"No thanks," Juno said, still grinning. "But you could get me some information. Starkiller is a bounty hunter — Mandalorian, you know. We're looking for a man… a Jedi. General Kota?"

"Never heard of him," Han said, waving to the barman. "Two drinks, pal. Lomin ale."

"Celebrating something?" Juno asked.

Han nodded. "Guess so. As an _ace_ pilot, I decided to make my living smuggling stuff. Great way to spite the Empire. I just got my first contract with this Hutt, Jabba. Not as legitimate as bounty hunting, but less dangerous. Especially when you're hunting Jedi. Old sorcerer _frek_, if you ask me."

"Never heard of Jabba."

"Surprising. Famed for his picking the _best_ bounty hunters."

Starkiller grinned at the barb, not finding it hard to make said grin cold and menacing.

The Wookie grumbled a little and Han looked at him. "Why should I?"

Chewie roared, making the other patrons look warily at them. The Rodian and Auquesh downed their drinks and bolted.

Han held up his hands. "Okay, Chewie, okay."

"You can understand it?" Starkiller asked.

Han glared at him. "Yeah, I can understand _him_." Then he turned to Juno. "Look. This girl set up the contract. Her name's Fillet. She lives here, on Nar Shadda, four levels down. She does a lot of business in the cantinas and bars. Seedier folk, you know. She's an Information Broker. Anything and everything, for the right price. I bet she can find your Jedi what's-his-name."

"Thanks, Han," Juno said, winking. "See you round the galaxy."

"Sure. When I'm famous you can try and hunt me down for the Empire," Han said, chuckling. "Later… Starla."

Han watched the pair walk out and then glanced at Chewbacca. "What do you think?"

The Wookie harrumphed.

"Yeah, I didn't buy it either," Han grinned. "But they aren't after us, so I could care less. Hope they find that what's-his-name, though."

"Juno," Starkiller said as they walked down the skywalk, heading for the lift. "That was a pretty fast story. You're a good actress."

"It was bad."

"But—"

"Starkiller, if you think they believed that _frek_ then you are more sheltered than I thought." She looked at him. "He caught my walk. He's more astute than he lets on."

"Your walk?"

"Imperial training tries to make everything as uniform as possible. A culture has distinguishing features, though. Some too inbred to train out, at least permanently. He recognized me as a pilot. Gravity is lighter on a cruiser, so you develop a stomp step." She smiled at him. "Something my squad leader taught me."

She blushed the rest of the way, feeling Starkiller's eyes watching her every movement. He definitely learned fast.


	10. Chapter 9 The Absence

**_ Thank you for the Reviews. I hope you all enjoyed the guest appearence, and while I doubt there will be more, you never now. Especially since I don't know, and even if there are, you will not know until you read. Anyway, this is where things enter my stroy. I will try and keep Starkiller as the main focus, because, let's face it, he is an awesome character. Fair warning: Things will play out to the end of the game with as little interference as possible. After the game is where my focus lies. _****_As always, RRC (Read, Review, Critique)._**

**The Absence**

Starkiller tapped his fingers impatiently on the tabletop. It had been three days since they made contact with Fillet. Contact was an exaggeration. They had spent the better part of that first day searching for her living quarters. They had found it when Juno had thought of using the holocom directory. They had checked the living block that she owned, but she hadn't been there. In all truth, neither had expected her to actually live there. Someone like Fillet sounded like the type to attract enemies.

They had left a message for her and then retreated to the _Rogue Shadow_. Where they had spent most of the next day, waiting for Fillet to contact them. Starkiller had to say he was glad of the day. He learned a lot from Juno in less than ten hours — Nar Shadda's day — on how to interact with other people. His senses from the Force helped him a lot, of course, but mainly in telling the other's disposition and opinions of him.

The next day was much the same, but this time they spent it restocking the ship and Juno watching PROXY and Starkiller train. Then Starkiller had a good laugh as PROXY and Juno had a sparring match with vibroblades. Juno lost four times out of six, which was pretty good considering PROXY mimicked Force powers and had no qualms about using them.

Juno got her own back by beating Starkiller in a Sabacc game. At least she would have if Fillet had not contacted them at that moment.

Starkiller ran over the conversation in his head one last time, which was not that hard.

"_Hi. I'm Fillet. I have information you want. You have five million credits I want. We will meet tomorrow at the _Borrowed Bantha_, 1800."_

So here they were, five minutes late and still waiting. The real problem was the fact that they did not have five million credits. Starkiller knew that his account was only a reserve fund — a mere one million credits. So they were hoping Fillet was not strong willed.

"Are you sure you can… manipulate her?" Juno asked for the fifth time. She seemed nervous, which made Starkiller nervous.

"Yes," he said, injecting more confidence than he felt into his voice.

The general nervousness of the pair was due to Fillet's compatriots. They were scattered through the bar, humans and aliens, even an ancient pair of Super Battle Droids. Starkiller knew that they could take the information and run, but that would attract too much attention. Especially since he could not hit anything at more the five meters with a blaster and using a lightsaber would flag their existence to the Empire. The keyword was discretion.

Juno finished the food she'd ordered and began tapping her fork against the table. "Sure you don't want something?" she asked again.

"Yeah," Starkiller said, still scanning the bar. Something occurred to him. "Juno, how are we supposed to recognize her? We've never seen her and she hasn't seen us."

Juno shrugged. "I guess we'll find out. If all of these guys are her thugs, then we stand out, don't you think?"

"Good way to keep things to her advantage. We don't know who we're looking for. She will, and she has us outgunned."

"But not out-Forced."

Starkiller chuckled. "That was pretty bad, Juno."

The barman's sudden shout made them look up. "Hey! Hey, you! No droids!"

Starkiller caught sight of a tall man in the doorway and froze. This man was a real Mandalorian — armor and helmet gave him away in a heartbeat — and if he saw what he thought was a fellow Mandalorian — Starkiller — then he might want to get involved in some kind of talk. And Mandalorians were easily ticked off by those they thought imposters.

Luckily, the Mandalorian was preoccupied with the barman. He took off his helmet, revealing a scarred and haggard face with the worst bits, presumably, partially hidden by a wide cloth over one eye, making the barman take a step back. The Mandalorian took a yellow stick from his belt and stuck it in his mouth, chewing on it.

"What droid?" he asked around the Death Stick.

"What droid?" the barman exclaimed, gesturing at the black and red R2 unit behind him. "That droid."

"You have droids."

"They the property of the owner."

"Fillet. I'm here to talk to her."

"Then have you droid wait outside."

"No," the Mandalorian said, bluntly.

"Droid goes," the barman yelled, going red in the face.

"No." This time the Mandalorian's old DC-17 compact rifle leveled at the barman's face.

"Droid stays," the barman yelled, going as white as a sheet of flimsyplast.

"Wasn't a problem, was it?" the Mandalorian said. "When her 'greatness' shows up, tell her that Rile Sandown is here."

"Yes, sir."

Starkiller sighed as the man made his way over to a booth at the far end of the bar. At least they would not see each other easily. But something caught Starkiller's eye. There, for a second, he thought he saw another man — cloaked and hooded — walking beside Rile. Then he was gone. That was unusual, but nearly as confusing as the fact that the man had not existed in the Force. Each and every person in the room held some basic presence in the Force, and Starkiller was constantly keeping tabs on them through this link. Therefore, when he saw the flicker of a cloak, he focused on it. But there was nothing there. And not the non-existent presence of a droid, but a non-essence — an… absence — one that he would have overlooked had it not been surrounded by other Force essences, all of them fading into nothing around the non-essence.

Starkiller was just about to try and locate the non-existence in the Force when he was interrupted by Juno's elbow.

"What?" he asked, annoyed.

"I think that's her," Juno said, nodding to the door.

Starkiller looked around and found a tanned, dark-haired human in the doorway. She was dressed in… well, very little in Starkiller's opinion. The diaphanous clothes barely covered her, and the tight animal leather pants looked sensual and flexible. However, Starkiller noted how she moved — as he had picked up from Juno's lesson. The clothes were meant to not only distract her clients — men probably — but also for her to react fast. While trim and skintight, she moved in them with the effortless grace of a predator. The blaster in her boot holster was probably for shooting unreasonable clients in the foot, or other… areas. The vibroblade in the small of her back seemed to be her favored weapon, given that her hand stayed close to it. And given her name.

"Good evening," she said, giving them a fake smile. "How sweet. A couple. You look good together."

She sat and placed her booted foot on the booth's opposite seat. Between Starkiller's legs. He smiled, pretending not to notice and at the same time working the blaster loose from its holster with the Force. She either didn't notice or didn't care. He hoped the former.

"Do you have the information?" Juno asked.

"Maybe," Fillet said, never taking her eyes off Starkiller. "Do you have my payment?"

Starkiller saw this as his chance. He had never tried to influence another's mind, but no time like the present. He concentrated on her Force presence, probing at her mind with his. There had to be a chink, a crease and fissure somewhere in the cynical armor.

Juno's eyes shot between the two and then spoke to Fillet. "We want to see the information first."

"Do you think I'm stupid?"

"Do you think _we_ are?"

There had to be a way in. Something, anything. A crack, a seam…

"No," Fillet said, her mercury silver eyes still locked on Starkiller. "But you might not be the smartest people in the galaxy."

"We noted your lackeys," Juno said, sitting back and grinning. "Thinking of taking the credits from us? Seems to be a lot of protection for something as simple as information trading."

Starkiller thanked her silently. Distract her, throw her off, something. Fillet probably had some idea that he was trying to intimidate her through dominance in the art of a staring contest. She seemed petty enough to not want to lose.

He forced his eyes to blink, still feeling for the chink.

Her grin got bigger and her eyes flicked away. And there it was. A small slice of ego, just protruding from the protected mind.

Starkiller shoved his own Force presence into the exposed area.

"Where is General Kota?" he asked, making sure to plant the idea in her head and that she wanted to give them the answer.

Fillet grinned again, wider still, at him. "In good time, love. First, why don't we introduce ourselves? I'm Fillet."

"An alias," Juno said, dismissively. "You cannot expect our names if you do not give your own."

Fillet's eyes narrowed. "You're good, honey. What about him?"

"He is more than _good_."

Starkiller had no idea what they were talking about, but didn't care. He pressured Fillet's mind a bit more, carefully layering his question in her brain. _You want to tell me about Kota, don't you? You do. Tell me… where is Kota…?_

"Where is Kota?" Starkiller asked again.

"Where is my good friend Credit?" Fillet asked, smirking.

Why wasn't this working, Starkiller wondered. I'm a Sith, _frekit._

Fillet suddenly rubbed her temple.

"Something wrong?" Juno asked, glancing at Starkiller.

"No… no, it's fine."

Starkiller didn't concentrate so hard this time, and let the words drift out, along the channel he had into her mind.

_Where is Kota? You want to tell me about Kota. General Rahm Kota. Tell me where he is…_

"Fillet," Starkiller asked, calmly. "Where is Kota? You have the information, don't you? You do, I know. I need that information. Where is he?"

"Ah… Kota? Right, the guy you… you asked me about." Fillet shook her head.

"You want to tell me about Kota," Starkiller said. "You want to give us this information."

"I… I want to… ah… information…" Fillet's foot slipped down, kicking her blaster across the room from where it had fallen. Several of Fillet's men looked up.

"_You want to give me the information you have about Kota,_" Starkiller said, interjecting the thought into her head and ears at the same time. "_You want me to have this information. You want to tell me about General Rahm —_"

"Kota," Fillet murmured, her eyes glazing over.

"_Right. Kota. Where is he? You want to tell me_."

"General Kota… he was… ah… escaped to… Ziost…"

"Ziost?"

"Yeah… er, what did—?"

"_What else, Fillet? What else do you want me to know about Kota?"_

"He… went to Ziost… and then to… to… er," Fillet shook her head, scratching at her temple, as if there was an itch that would not go away.

"_Where, Fillet? Where did Kota go?"_

"Ziost. He went to Ziost. Got a friend… Senate… Ziost and then… ah… Ziost…"

"Starkiller?" Juno said, watching as a few more men took notice of the strange conversation.

He shrugged, and then turned back to Fillet. _"You said you had a disc. One with the information on it. You want to give it to me. You want me to have the information on Kota."_

Fillet said nothing, but reached into the folds of her diaphanous clothes and pulled out a small holo-sphere. She handed it to him, her eyes twitching.

Starkiller snatched the sphere and shoved it into his pocket. "_Nice doing business with you, Starkiller,_" he mumbled, trying to make it seem like something she would close a transaction with.

"Nice… ah, doing business… Stair Filler."

Starkiller shrugged again, grabbing Juno and propelling her out of the bar. "Close enough."

Rile smirked around his Death Stick as Fillet staggered over. She slumped into the seat and looked at him. "What the _freking fierfek_ did that _di'kut_ do to me?"

"Language, young lady," Rile said, grinning. "That's my mother tongue you're sullying the air with."

Fillet shook her head and then swore in Huttese. "What just happened?"

She jumped as the air next to her answered, "Force Manipulation of the Mind. Third level. You are very strong willed, Miss Fillet. You fought it well."

Fillet swore that the seat next to Rile had been empty a second ago. Now a black cloak huddled there, long-taloned fingers rapping gently against the metal tabletop.

"Now, Miss Fillet," the cloak said. "I trust you have _my_ information." He looked up, brilliant gold eyes flashing from her eyes to her throat and back again. His talons clicked, tellingly on the table. "I will not be as gentle."

Juno twisted out of Starkiller's grasp and then turned to him. She was grinning. "Stair Filler?"

"You try to trick someone's mind into doing something they really don't want to do. Under pressure. For the first time. If Vader did anything for me, it was that. I work real well under pressure."

Juno's grin lessened at the mention of Vader, but they were both too jubilant to let it drag them down. "Our first step in right direction."

"Let's hope so," Starkiller said. "Ziost… it sounds familiar." He rubbed his hand over his shaved head, thinking. Then he slapped his hands together. "Sith. That's the world where the Sith Order was founded."

"Really?" Juno asked. "But… Kota's a Jedi? Why would he go to the Sith homeworld?"

"Last place you'd look for a _Jedi_, right? Also, Ziost is out of the way enough for his trail to go cold if we don't move fast."

Juno nodded. "Okay. Give me two hours to secure some fuel and coolant for the _Rogue Shadow_, and we can be on our way."

Starkiller looked up at the stars in Nar Shadda's sky, some obscured by the planet the moon orbited. They were on the path to founding their rebellion. And he was a step closer to helping Vader destroy the Emperor.

Fillet glared at the two men across from her. She decided that it was better to insult and berate a known variable as apposed to an unknown.

"Hez Kanho," she said, glaring at Rile. "You stinking _di'kut_. What —?"

"That's not my name."

"It is."

"I go by Rile Sandown now. Hez got a bit to close with an Imperial Star Destroyer and died in a chase. Rile so happens to share key qualities, like dashing good looks, great humor and a fabulous fighting skill."

Fillet sighed heavily. "What's this? The… third name you've got from me?"

"No, still two. Got Rile from a smuggler who was taking more than his cut. Whose head is now on Jabba's wall."

"Very nice."

"Isn't it?" the cloaked alien snarled, his talons rasping against the metal. "Now, to business…"

"Which is?" Fillet asked. "I don't remember arranging a transaction with you. Or anyone for this day. Except those two kreffing nerf-herders who skipped out on my pay. And seeing as I cannot remember when they left, but I have been here more than half a standard hour, I think it is pointless to track them down. My men are imposing, not smart." She sighed and rested her chin in her hands. "So hard to find good help these days, Hez." Then she brightened. "Say… you aren't on contract are you? Care to come on board my operation?"

"Sorry, sweetness," Rile said, grinning around his Death Stick. He took a heavy drag, making the smoldering end glow red. "I got hired by _this_ guy. Which brings us to the matter at hand. His information." He raised a hand to forgo her complaint. "I know we didn't have an appointment, but I am going to offer you five thousand credits for it."

"So you want the name of the star system your target was in two years ago?" Fillet asked, sneering. "Because that is what five thousand is going to get you."

"I need information on the Eon Fleet," the cloak rasped.

Fillet laughed. "That's a myth."

"That is why I offer a trivial sum. Surely a myth is worth nothing to you."

Fillet shrugged. "Okay, your money, pal. The Eon Fleet was this Itaraian legend. It consisted of five ships with power so vast they could each control entire systems. The Republic sent a team of Jedi to convince the Itaraians to destroy the ships. The Itaraian Conclave complied, but couldn't bring themselves to destroy such power. So instead they sent them in a random hyperspace vector, losing them to the galaxy."

The cloak waited for her to continue, but when it was obvious she had said everything she was going to, he hissed and turned to Rile. "You said she would know."

"I said it was the _best_ long shot. That still makes it a long shot, Cursr."

Fillet leaned over the table. "Cursr, huh? That's a cute name."

Cursr looked at her, his gold eyes wide in revulsion. "'The One Who Will Destroy All Things' is cute to you?"

"Huh?"

"Don't tease her, Cursr." Rile smiled at her. "It actually means Desolate or Void. But it has been used to mean Peace, too."

"What?"

"It's Itaraian."

Fillet smiled knowingly. "So that's where you disappeared to seven years ago. Hanging around with fellow outcasts, were you?"

Cursr hissed and his talons were suddenly pricking her throat. There was the scrape of chairs and the clink of droid feet as Fillet's men stood. She tried to laugh it off, but having sharp claws at her throat made that difficult.

"We are not outcasts," Cursr snarled. "We were forced from our homes, our land. We are exiled and mistreated. We will have our revenge on the foul Republic, and the Empire. The stupid Jedi and the fool Sith. All those who wronged us."

"Cursr," Rile said, a touch of reproach in his voice. But he didn't move. "No need to scare the poor girl."

The Itaraian hissed — a long, low, undulating hiss — and pulled back. Fillet rubbed her neck, still feeling the talon points. Rile smiled and patted the R2 droid's dome. "Fillet," he said. "You mind giving us a copy of that story to Phase here? And any other references you have on the Eon Fleet."

"No… no, not a problem."

"Good."

Fillet got up but felt something push her back down. Cursr's topaz eyes locked on her's once more. "Who were they?"

"Who?"

"_Who were the man and woman you were speaking with? Tell me._"

"They didn't give names. They wanted information on General Rahm Kota, a Jedi."

"Thank you, Fillet."

"For what?"

Cursr smiled with long carnivore teeth. Fillet could imagine a Rancor crying from that smile. "For everything, Fillet." And then he was gone, melting into the shadows. "_You will not remember me. You will forget everything we talked about._"

Fillet's eyes glazed and then she blinked. She looked at Rile. "Hez? When did you get here?"

Rile grinned. "You need to lay off the drinks, sweetness. See you around. Say good bye, Phase."

The R2 unit whistled at her and Fillet found herself handing the droid a disc she didn't remember putting in her pocket that morning.

She watched Rile leave, and then shook her head. She needed to lay off the drinks. She could have sworn she had seen Rile wearing a cloak as he left.


	11. Chapter 10 The Hunters

**_Thanks once again to those who reviewed, and those who Favorited the story. An extra special thanks to_ Rinter_ for the consitant reviews and praise. I will say it until someone does it: Critique! Nothing is perfect, slackers. =)_**

**_I'm only joking. Kinda. Now, RRC. _**

**The Hunters**

"Cursr?"

"Yes, Rile?"

"Do you have to do that?"

Cursr glanced at the big man walking next to him. "Do what?"

"Scramble everyone's brains after we're through with them?"

"Yes."

Rile shrugged. "I shouldn't complain. You're paying me well enough." Then he realized he was talking to himself again. "_Frekit_, Cursr. Must you do that?"

"What?" asked a disembodied voice from his right.

"Go invisible and make me look like a lunatic?"

There was a hiss.

"You're laughing at me, aren't you?"

"… No." Another hissing sound.

Rile sighed and put on his helmet. Cursr had a commlink in his ear, and Rile could talk to him through his helmet comm. It beat looking like a mental patient. "Well? Did that help you at all?"

"Her rendition of my ancestors' greatest achievement? No. I knew all that already. I was hoping she would have knowledge on where they went, or even rumors about the Eon Fleet."

"Any ideas of where to look next?"

"Maybe. The Itaraian Conclave was true to its word, but the Jedi and Sith agents were not. They were fighting over the Eon Fleet. It is possible the Jedi have some record of what might of happened to it, but I would prefer to investigate the Sith first."

"Why?"

"They were more likely to want to use the Eon Fleet's vast power. The Jedi wanted the Fleet so as to stop others from having it."

"Can you blame them?" Rile paused at an intersection and then felt Cursr tug on his arm, pulling him toward the right. "The Jedi wanted to keep peace. Admittedly the scum murdered hundreds of my people, but still… no one could be sure your lot wouldn't rise up and crush the Republic to gain power."

Cursr's hiss drew the attention of a couple of people walking by them, but — seeing no one but an imposing Mandalorian warrior and a docile R2 unit — they passed by without a word.

Rile knew Cursr's opinion of the Itaraian people was infallible, that they could do no wrong. But he also knew Cursr was learning fast that nothing was perfect.

Then the man noticed where they were going. "Hey, Cursr?"

"Hmm?"

"Why are we heading to the upper levels? Our ship is one level down."

"He's up this way."

"Who?"

"The Sith in the bar."

Rile glanced quickly around to make sure no one was watching him, and then he grabbed for where he thought Cursr was. He guessed correctly — for once — and dragged the invisible burden into a side alley. Cursr resurfaced, glaring at Rile.

"What, Rile?"

"Sith?" Rile whispered angrily. "Why are we going after Sith? I thought you said we could not delay?"

"The Eon Fleet is not going anywhere and this man intrigues me."

"Intrigues you?" Rile spluttered. "When is that reason to engage a Sith in conversation? I thought you hated Sith and Jedi?"

"I hate Sith, I find Jedi stupid," Cursr corrected. "And, interestingly, he is in between them."

"What?"

Cursr folded his arms and closed his eyes — ordering his thoughts, Rile realized. "This young man has the taint of a Sith on him. But there is a quality in him… I… cannot describe it. But it is holding the dark flood at bay. He is almost Itaraian in that regard. I heard Fillet tell them about a Jedi Kota and Ziost. Ziost is a Sith world. It is plausible that information on the Eon Fleet is there. I do not know the coordinates for Ziost. If I have to go there, then tracing them would be best. A tracking device perhaps."

"Look, you little womp rat," Rile snarled. "I am not having anything to do with a Sith. Definitely not one pretending to be a Jedi—"

"I will pay you fifty thousand credits as a bonus if you place a tracer on their vessel."

"Where do you want the tracer?" Rile asked. "On board or on the hull?"

"On board — in the cockpit — would be preferable, with a listening device. However, that will be a five thousand bonus for you. I really only need to find them again."

"Well, I better get started."

Cursr smiled. "So easily motivated," he muttered.

Juno was sitting on the ramp of the _Rogue Shadow_, waiting for the refueling to finish. She had condescended to allow Starkiller — under PROXY's supervision — to replace the coolant.

"Hi."

Juno looked up from the gauge to see the Mandalorian from the _Borrowed Bantha_ walking over. She tensed. Even with his face half covered, she recognized him as Rile. He might have been hired by Fillet to find them and make them pay up. With money they did not have. But his pistol and rifle remained in place, and the R2 unit trundling alongside gave him a meek trait. No one could take you seriously with an R2 unit in tow.

"Hello," Juno responded, her hand resting on her hip, fingers grazing the pistol, reassuring her that it was there.

Rile grinned. "No need to worry, sweetness. I don't bite."

"I'm certain you've been bitten though."

"Ouch," Rile said, letting out a short laugh. "That stung, sweetness."

"Don't call me that."

"What should I call you?"

"Nothing, because I'm not staying long enough for it to mean anything to you."

Rile leaned against the ramp's other piston. The R2 unit rolled over and attempted to go discreetly up the ramp. Droids don't do sneaky well. Juno stepped in front of it, and placed a foot against its cylindrical body. It blatted at her.

"Hey," Rile said, still smiling. "No need to be so suspicious. Phase is just a great admirer of fine craftsmanship. Like me."

Juno felt a little hot under the man's gaze, especially since he seemed to appreciate her attire. As soon as she could, she was getting back into uniform. She didn't care if she wasn't Imperial Navy, or if she hated them as much as her father now, it was not as provocative as this outfit.

"Yeah, well," Juno said, pushing the droid down the ramp, its wheels squeaking as the traction failed to hold. "I don't like strange droids on my ship. I don't like anything talking to my ship without me knowing what they're saying. Might give her _rude_ ideas."

Rile's smile was even bigger now. Juno noted that everyone seemed to be very pleased with themselves recently. Then he got serious. "It is a nice ship. It makes one wonder how you came by it."

"I was employed by Lekana Spaceways as a test pilot," Juno said, smoothly. "Gave me an old prototype. I fixed her up myself."

"Really? Nice girl like you running spice in this beaut?"

"I'm not a smuggler."

"Then what do you do?"

"Transport. _Legal_ transport."

"Nice ship to do it in." He glanced up the ramp. "Mind if I take a look?"

"Yes."

"I won't touch anything."

"Still no."

His scarred face twisted into an absurd expression. He pouted, like a petulant child. "Oh, come on. You're so mean." He burst out laughing at her look. "I mean it, though. Tell you what… I show you mine, you show me yours. Hey, Phase, holograph alpha."

Juno looked down at the R2. Its holo projector buzzed to life and a hazy blue schematic materialized before them. Juno had to say she was taken aback. New starships were not hard to come by. She could spit over the edge of a building and hit one going two-hundred klicks an hour. But the _Rogue Shadow_ was unique. Just like Rile's.

His ship was a simple, organic shape. Three wings — two splayed to the sides and down, and one making up the body — set up the skeleton for the propulsion systems. Two turret cannons sat on either side of the tail, with another pair on either side of the curved nose.

Juno whistled. "That _is_ a nice ship."

Rile grinned. "She is."

"What's her name?"

Rile raised an eyebrow. "You know what? I never gave thought to it. I was thinking about calling her the _Dark Sigil_. She's brand new. Got her from some friends two months ago. Took seven years to build her and two months to get back from where she was built."

"Which was…?"

He grinned. "Can't tell you. Sworn to secrecy. But I might be able to part with that information if you let me see your ship."

Juno shook her head. "Still no. Wouldn't want you to break your vow. Some times all you can trust is another person's word."

"True," Rile murmured, his eye roving over the _Rogue Shadow_. It was only now that Juno noticed he was missing an eye. At least he had a large section of cloth over one half of his face. As she watched though, he reached up and undid the cloth, sliding it into his belt satchel, revealing a cybernetic appendage. "Phase," Rile said. "Activate OFT."

The R2 beeped and Rile winced as the eye glowed red.

"OFT?" Juno asked.

Rile didn't look at her, both of his eyes now scanning over the _Rogue Shadow_. "Old Fashioned Tech. Basic optical nerve is attached to the eye."

Juno was going to ask what happened, but it seemed a stupid question. The area around the eye was dark red and puckered. Thermal Detonator at close range, probably. Instead she asked, "Why do you have it turned off and on?"

He shrugged. "I shouldn't be alive. I only use it when I need to. Feel like I'm cheating life otherwise. A real soldier would retire from something like this. Go into training others and the like. But my people don't have that luxury." He nodded to her and gestured to the droid. "I'll be going now, Miss… right, you didn't tell me. Well, goodbye anyway." He turned and started to walk around the front of the hull, running his hand along the edge. Then he paused. "Oh, you might not want to wait too long. Fillet wasn't too happy about you skipping out on her pay."

Juno waited for him to pass behind another ship farther down the lot before checking the gauge. Two minutes. Those would be a long two minutes.

Rile jogged down the walkway to the lower landing pad. His ship sat there, her engines warm and pulsing dust off around the landing skirt.

"Impatient, Cursr? That's not like you," Rile said, stowing his jet pack in the utility rack and sliding into the pilot's seat.

The Itaraian eyed him. "Well?"

"Didn't get inside, sorry."

"Not a problem."

"Did get it on the nose, though. I knew that if she had time she'd check the hull where I was, so I dropped a hint that Fillet would be looking for them."

"And?"

Rile tapped Phase on the dome. "Buddy. Give Fillet a call, would you?"

Phase whistled and plugged into the socket.

Juno swore and looked at the gauge. Thirty seconds. A blaster bolt smashed into the ship's hull. Juno pulled out her pistol and shot a few blasts at the two Super Battle Droids. Fillet and the other ten men ducked out of instinct, but the droids did not think like that. They were also not as old as Juno had thought. The blaster rounds pounded on them, making one lose its footing, but the scorch marks were the only evidence of a hit.

Fillet stood and yelled. However, it was incoherent over the high pulsing of the ion drive. Juno ducked into the ship as it lifted, ripping the fuel line. Juno was very happy the _Rogue Shadow_ had pressurized seals on everything. Otherwise they'd have been leaking fuel from Nar Shadda to Ziost.

She darted into the cockpit and fell into PROXY's usual seat — the droid was in the co-pilot's chair, with Starkiller in the pilot's seat.

"Starkiller?"

"I trust you're not going to yell at me for that."

"No," Juno sighed. "But we do have a bit of tube hanging off the side. I want it gone before we enter hyperspace."

"Why?"

"The seals are pressurized, but I still want to be secure. Bring us out of the gravity well and I will fix it."

Starkiller eyed her. "I could try and do it from in here with the Force."

Juno shook her head, already taking an extravehicular suit from the utility cupboard by the door. "I need it done fast. Best if we don't try anything special. You stay here and plot a course for Ziost. I'll take care of our leak."

And she was gone, sealing the suit. Starkiller looked at PROXY. "You know how to plot a jump?"

"You don't, Master?"

"Wasn't big on Vader's list of things for me to know."

"Miss Eclipse complained about how I programmed jump coordinates."

"Well, it got us to wherever it was. I would probably dump us in a black hole. PROXY, just do it. She will have plenty of time to un-muddle it when we get to Ziost."

"Very well, Master."

Fillet fumed as the ship zoomed away. She turned and brought her vibroblade to bear on a Trandoshan's neck. She didn't kill him, not yet. She just wanted to get her anger out on something. Then another roar of engines gripped her attention.

Fillet turned to see an organic-like ship skip up from the lower traffic alleys and zoom up after Stair Filler's ship.

Fillet turned back to the Trandoshan. "Was that Rile's ship?"

The lizard-like being nodded furiously. "I followed him like you ask, miss. He say something to his droid about his ship on the lower levels. I go down and find ship that belong to him. Bribed maintenance human."

Fillet smiled. She knew having Hez followed would be a good idea. However, as to why she wanted him to be traced — and why she wanted to call him Rile — still eluded her.

She turned to her men. "Well, don't just sit there! Get going. I want both of those ships under our guns and those credits in my pocket." The thugs turned and started to wander to the hanger. "The sooner I get those credits," Fillet snarled, dashing past them, "The sooner you all get your pay."

She was pleased — but not unduly surprised — when she was quickly overtaken by her men.

"Cursr?"

"Rile?"

"It might be a bad time to mention this, but they know what we look like."

"Why do they know that, Rile?"

"Because I showed her. Look, it's not a big problem. The beacon transmits a constant for fifty standard hours, and a single burst transmission with a hyperspace jump. We will have those coordinates."

"As long as they do not panic and jump randomly."

Rile glanced at Cursr. "Why would they do that? She might know what I look like, but as long as they don't get a solid visual on us, we should be fine."

"I was not referring to us." Cursr pointed at the scanner. "Your lady friend appears to own a squadron of N-1 Starfighters. Myself and my people always admired the Naboo for their aesthetically pleasing design."

"_Frekit,_ Cursr! This is not time for an art review." Rile pulled the ship around, reversing the engines so they drifted between the advancing squadron and the other ship. Rile noticed that the ship didn't have a transponder code. In fact, he was fairly certain that he wasn't getting a sensor ping from it either. "That's one stealthy ship," he muttered, turning his attention back to the N-1s. "Phase, activate the ion function for the front guns."

"Why?" Cursr asked, sitting calmly next to Rile. He stared out at the advancing squadron, completely unperturbed.

"Why don't I want to blast them to tiny little bits?" Rile asked, sarcastically.

"Yes."

"Because Fillet has helped me out a lot in my life. She has put a lot of time into building her little organization, and I do not want her angry with me." He gunned the engines. "_And_ I owe her fifty credits. I do not want to increase the debt."

"You do realize there are twelve of them and one of you?"

"This is an Itaraian Fighter, right?"

"No."

"But—"

"Itaraian Fighters are smaller. This is a specific design. That _you_ requested."

"_But_ it is Itaraian."

"You know it is."

"Then can't you do that mystic stuff and… you know, do that thing you do?"

"What thing?"

"You know… that invisible stuff."

Cursr sighed and closed his eyes. "Unless you want to die, do not disturb me."

"Unless we're about to die."

"Even if we are about to die. _Especially_ if we are about to die."

Juno drifted next to the fuel line. The cells inside registered full, but there was a thin coating of semi-solid fuel smeared along the hull from planetary exit. She sighed and gripped the ripped fuel line. She could clean it off later. It was more important to remove large mass irregularities from the _Rogue Shadow_'s frame. It could change the hyperdrive configuration and Juno had a feeling that they did not have time to calibrate the navi-computer for about ten kilograms of fuel line and connector.

She gripped the release handle and felt the unexpected pressure of the seal undoing. It hadn't deactivated when the line ripped. Juno didn't have time to think why, but knew what would happen. She quickly grabbed for the side of the ship, but it was too smooth. She felt her feet leave the hull and the line pop free, propelling it and her into the cruel grip of empty space.

Juno had heard stories like this when she was a cadet. About pilots who had to ditch their ships and went EV in space. Some ended happily; a bit of frostbite and hypothermia. But that was rare. They almost always ended with the pilot slowly dying of asphyxiation. At least, Juno thought, it would be fairly painless. She would pass out long before her air ran out.

She didn't notice her outbound velocity decrease and then stop. She didn't hear the ion engines hovering over her drifting body. But she did notice the hatch of the _Rogue Shadow_ seemingly getting closer to her, until it engulfed her and the hatch closed.

Rile glanced from the targeting array to his friend and then back again. There were only four N-1s left. The rest drifted in high orbit.

Rile had to say that Fillet knew what she was doing. She was leading the last four, calculating where the next attack would come from. Rile didn't know how she was doing it. He assumed they were completely invisible, like Cursr could be when by himself. But he also didn't know how Cursr made himself invisible, so he didn't know how well it would work on a ship. The ion cannons fried another N-1's systems. The last three pulled to the right and then down, corkscrewing up and back in perfect unison.

"Too precise," Rile muttered. He knew Fillet was good with technology, but getting Super Battle Droids the technical suite to comprehend stuff well beyond their original programming was bordering on ridiculous. Or genius. Depending on how you looked at it.

Phase suddenly wailed a warning and jittered, his dome whirling around.

"What is it Phase?" Rile said, glancing at the computer readout.

**Beacon ship readying for hyperspace. Not receiving transponder.**

"_Fierfek_," Rile swore. "Phase, can you hack it?"

**Not from three hundred and fifty-three point two klicks. Sorry.**

"I have to stop playing, Fillet," Rile grunted. "Cursr! Snap out of it, man. I need your help on this side of the Force, if you please."

Cursr's gold eyes flashed open. "They're getting ready to jump."

"I realized that. I need you to stop those two N-1s on either side of the lead; that's the red and silver one."

"Do you understand how the Force works? At all? Even the most vaguely, basest, crudest interpretation?"

"No. Can you do it or not?"

"I cannot stop them. Are you adverse to their destruction?"

"No. Just not the lead."

"The one that holds the charming, bad tempered young lady."

"Yeah. Fillet."

Cursr shook his head and muttered something that sounded like 'who is who's employer?' and closed his eyes again.

The N-1s imploded, crumpling into themselves, their engines shorting out before exploding and casting both ships into Nar Shadda's gravity well.

"Good," Rile said, turning the ship around and heading for the distant slash of light that was their quarry. "Phase?"

**Two hundred klicks.**

Rile could see the ship gathering speed, preparing for the leap. "Come on," he muttered to the ship. "Come on…"

**Fifty klicks.**

The ship started forward, it's off-center engine glowing with energy.

**Locked. Decrypting.**

It flashed into the miasma of hyperspace.

Rile sighed and slammed his fist onto the dashboard. "_Frek. Frek, frek, Feirfek_ and _di'kutla kreffing_ Sithspit!"

"That was barely coherent," Cursr said, calmly.

"Yeah, it barely was," Rile shouted. "Why aren't you mad? Don't get all optimistic on me, Cursr. I know you are seething on the inside because we lost them. So we will have to go back to Fillet and get her to give up the location, and that could take days because she does not remember the location and those _di'kutla_ took her only copy. So tell me. Why? Why are you not flying off the handle?"

Cursr smiled, still calm. "We only need one to become incomprehensible at any given time. Also," he pointed at the computer readout. "You should have more confidence in your equipment."

Rile looked down at the board.

**Decryption successful. Hyperspace navigation coordinates are locked in. You are welcome, Master Rile.**

"I love you, Phase." Rile keyed in the numbers and set the ship in line. "Ziost here we come."

Fillet watched as Rile's ship appeared from nowhere and then raced after the other ship, entering hyperspace seconds after it. She smiled as her navi-computer beeped and a set of coordinates popped up.

"Nice doing business with you, Rile."


	12. Chapter 11 The Dark Void

**_Hi-oh. Nice of you to come back. Sorry if this is a bit late, but I've been slowing lately. Probably has somehting to do with not playing Unleashed for a while. Anyway, I have offically given up on asking you to find stuff wrong with my stories. Congradulations, you have bested me. Oh the sorrow._**

**_Yeah, right =P I will stop asking you people to find problems with my writing, but if there are any suggestions, questions, comments, please fire away. Hope you all liked the last chapter, and I hope you enjoyed Cursr, Rile and Fillet. You'll be seeing a lot more of them. Now... RRC_**

**_~A special thnaks to Rinter once again for the constant reviews. Glad I can entertain.~_**

**The Dark Void**

Juno settled into her chair, feeling very comfortable once more in her black uniform. Starkiller dozed — or meditated; she could never tell the difference — next to her.

She had thanked him for saving her, but he had shrugged it off.

_Couldn't fly the ship without you._

Juno didn't think it was true. He seemed capable enough to learn if he had to. She wouldn't have thought it to be compassion a few weeks ago. Weeks. Now that was a thought. She had served the Empire for almost her whole life, years of dedication and hard work. In less than a few days that had been destroyed.

So why didn't she feel more distraught? Because she had let herself hit rock bottom once she heard Starkiller had been killed? Possibly, but then how had she come right back?

Her squadron captain had always said she was a tough nut to crack. He said that if she ever failed in something, or gave in to the overpowering world, she would be dead or worse. That she didn't have anything to believe in, to live for. He had said that was the death of many great pilots — of beings in general. That they had nothing to go on for, no goal, no dream.

So what was her dream now? What did she seek in her life? Friends had always been there, but now that she thought about it, they were her squadmates, like family. Imperial brothers. _Imperial_. They wouldn't have anything to do with her now. So now she had no family, no friends, no love in her life. She had all she had dreamed for, only to have it ripped from her grasp.

She looked at Starkiller. She should be mad at him. He had made this happen. But she already knew that she was wrong in that blame. It was Vader, always had been. Vader had ordered the Callos bombing run, the genocide of the planet. Vader had ordered her posting to his personal service. Vader had killed Starkiller. Vader had condemned her as a traitor.

Starkiller was her friend now. Her reason to exist. Her mission, her duty.

He was asleep. She knew it because when you feel for someone that much, you can understand every nuance of their existence.

Starkiller sighed and opened his eyes. He had been meditating and, once again, he had fallen asleep. That was getting to be a problem. However, this time he vaguely remembered the dream, and it had not been one of dread and fear. What it was escaped him, but he knew it was… nice.

"We've arrived," Juno said, barely a whisper, to PROXY.

Starkiller grinned. "I'm awake, Juno."

"Oh… er, we've arrived."

Starkiller resisted the urge to stretch. "Alright. Any activity?"

Juno turned to the sensor array readout. "Nothing. Wait… yes, small area comm. traffic. It's from the ground — from the power and range I'd say they're commlinks or vehicle comms."

"Odd," Starkiller murmured. "Ziost is supposed to be deserted. Who would be there?"

"Who knows?" Juno said. "Smugglers, pirates, outlaws, mercenaries. Any number of people who do not want to be found."

"And who just got found by a small _uncloaked_ ship," Starkiller said, nodding at her.

"Right… _frek_."

"Such language. I'm shocked," Starkiller chuckled.

"Well," Juno said, ignoring him. "What do you want to do?"

Starkiller gestured at the planet. "Put us down near to the transponder signal. Don't endanger the _Shadow_, but get as close as you can."

"You're planning to confront them?"

"They're the only ones around this planet. If there have been any ships in the system, they'd know about it."

Juno nodded. "Makes sense. I'll put down just east of the fortress, in those mountains."

She pulled the _Rogue Shadow_ down to the planet. Starkiller suddenly tensed, as if he'd been punched in the gut.

"Starkiller?" Juno asked, worried.

"It's… nothing."

"What is it?"

"I can feel it. The Dark Side is strong here. I've felt strong, but this… it's eons of concentrated Dark Force energy. It's almost like the planet itself is… evil."

Juno understood what he meant as they descended. The landscape, while lush and fertile, was also drab and grey. Death hung in the atmosphere. Not the smell, but the aura, the presence of an evil so powerful that no life, not consumed by malevolence, could seemingly exist.

Juno knew she was not Force-sensitive. She knew that she couldn't feel what Starkiller was sensing. But the mere presence of the planet made her skin crawl, and her mind scream at her to run.

Suddenly the radar beeped.

PROXY turned from the terminal. "There appears to be a problem."

"Really?" Starkiller asked. "That's a surprise."

"Master, the probability of a ship exiting hyperspace, at the exact same position as our exit vector, is somewhere in the area of two billion, four thousand and fifty five hundred to one."

"They would have to have the exact same coordinates and exit vector from the start jump," Juno said, arming the cannons. "I don't like trailers. What's the ship classification?"

"Unknown, Miss Eclipse."

"Can you get me a visual?"

"Of course, Miss Eclipse." There was a series of clicks and then a ship appeared on the dashboard.

Juno stared. "That little womp rat. He tagged my hull."

"What?" Starkiller asked.

"That Mandalorian — Rile, from the _Borrowed_ _Bantha_ — put a tracer on the hull. I knew I should have checked it, but he put the thought right out of my head with the idea of Fillet."

"So?"

"But—"

"Juno, we have a cloaking device. Trailers are not a big problem."

"Actually, Master," PROXY said, his chipper tone at odds with his news. "It is a problem when the target also has a cloaking device."

"What?"

Juno looked at the scanner. It had been there. Rile's ship. Seconds ago it had been there, as clear as a supernova. Now… nothing.

"That is… weird," Starkiller said, raising an eyebrow. "PROXY, are you sure you didn't just accidentally relocate the image sensor?"

"Positive, Master."

Starkiller shrugged. "Not our concern. Engage cloak and follow the plan we already have. If they want to ambush us, they'll have to do better than that."

* * *

"They've engaged cloak," Rile said. "Cursr?"

There was silence for a long time. "What?"

"Well, the question isn't relevant now."

"They are settling down at the edge of a Sith Fortress. It has been repurposed, but the Dark Side is too pervasive. I cannot sense how many there are." Cursr opened his eyes, flicking them around at the controls. "Take us down. Into those mountains."

"Why so particular?" Rile asked. "This ship has the firepower to vaporize whoever is there."

"And the building, _di'kut_. I need that intact if I am going to find any information on the Eon Fleet."

"Sure. Right. Big important mission."

Cursr ignored him. "They are headed in that direction. I want to be close to them."

"Why?"

"I do not know. The boy still interests me. But I will lose him on this planet. The Dark Side is too prevalent. I need the ship close to theirs."

Rile shrugged. "You're the one paying. I could care less."

* * *

Starkiller walked down the path leading to the Sith Ziggurat. The ancient fortress was all hard angles and dark spires. It looked evil, but what was more terrifying was the pitch black aura emanating from it. Starkiller wondered why pirates would bother settling a base here. Even if they were not Force-sensitive, they should still feel the evil in the place. Even after all his years as Vader's apprentice, Starkiller had never felt malice so strong.

Vader was a benign Jedi Padawan compared to this.

Juno's voice filtered through the commlink. "Starkiller?"

"I'm here, Juno."

"You're sure taking your time. Could you hurry up and do whatever it is you're planning on doing?"

"You're not scared, are you Juno?" Starkiller asked, trying to laugh it off.

"…Yes," she murmured, almost too low to hear over the comm. "Starkiller… this place…"

"I know," he said. "I'll hurry. Stand by."

In truth, he was just as unsettled.

The attack came sooner than he expected. A small tingling in his head, a faint ray of light flickering across his chest. Starkiller dodged to the left just as the sniper unleashed the shot.

Starkiller leapt up the tree, using the Force to hold him steady as he sent a bolt of lightning into the unfortunate sniper. He died quickly, with very little sound. The stealth in the kill released some old calm for Starkiller.

He was there again, his first assassination for Vader. The tranquil storm amid dancing flurries. The fearless action, the shadowed moves.

Starkiller let the sense wash over him. It had been so long since he had stalked a target. All the Jedi had known he was coming; all the forces had been pitted against him. But here… here he was home.

Starkiller fled into the shadows of the trees, dancing along the dark paths that only animals knew. That only hunters trod.

While the Dark Side was very strong, and it was hard to pick out individuals at any kind of distance, Starkiller sensed the mass of people moving around up ahead.

He peered through a leafy crosshatching, and watched the pirates for a moment. Twenty. Child's play, really. He looked up. There was an overhanging obelisk, listing to one side through the erosion of time, which a small camp nestled under. Soon to be crushed under.

* * *

Supreme Grand Lord Ferno Dellov looked up as the earth-shattering quake washed over him. The pirate captain dashed for the window and looked toward the outpost. A column of smoke, ash, and dirt billowed up, filling the already murky sky with forbidding clouds.

"_Kreffing_ idiots," he muttered, before grabbing his vibrosword and blaster pistol. He ran out and gestured wildly to some of his gang who were watching the clouds with morbid fascination. "Don't just stand there, bantha poodo. Go and check that out."

"Yeah, sure, sir."

The group ambled over to a skiff and headed for the outpost.

* * *

Starkiller watched as the skiff set down. A troop of ten men jumped down, leaving two to man the gun and controls. They paced the corpses and kicked a few bodies.

One held up a commlink. "They're dead, Captain Dellov."

Starkiller didn't hear a reply. He did not wait for one. He burst from his cover, sending a shockwave through the Force and into the skiff, knocking it away and into a tree. The pirates turned on him and unleashed their blasters. The last thing they saw were crimson arcs.

* * *

"_Sithspit! What the _kref_ is—"_

Dellov and his first mate listened as the screams faded, replaced with a rustling of dry leaves and the strange humming that lessened over time, until it faded completely.

"What is that?" Dellov asked.

The first mate shrugged. "That's the third scout team to lose contact. An assault squad maybe. You are a feared warlord and pirate, sir. Perhaps someone thought you a rival worth hiring Mandalorians to do the job."

"The Mandalorians are dead, dolt." Dellov looked down into the courtyard of the ancient structure. "Set up cover and traps. Use the skiffs to block the entrance and the guns for cover fire. We are the greatest pirates in the galaxy. No two-bit Mando is going to beat us!"

* * *

"These have to be the worst pirates in the galaxy," Rile muttered, kicking a body over. "Figures. He's a boy. Fifteen or sixteen. Poor kid. No proper training, you know. Give him the Mandalorian culture and you'd get a fine warrior out of him."

Cursr ignored Rile and tramped through the bog. He parted the branches with a wave of his hand and looked up at the Sith fortress. A skiff hovered around from the side and headed up to the lone bridge that led to the entrance.

The Itaraian looked back at Rile. "The boy had another with him, no doubt. With a skiff."

"How do you know?"

"Your nose is not as effective as mine. His hormones —"

Rile cut him off. "I do not want to know, Cursr. All I need to know is that we are looking for a girl and a skiff."

"Not necessarily a girl."

"You are sick, sick man, Cursr."

"Personal preference, Rile. And I am not a man. I am a male, not a _human_ male."

Rile stomped past Cursr — whose manic grin was showing hundreds of viciously long fangs — and began muttering his way up the muddy slope.

* * *

Starkiller observed the preparation. It was less than half a standard hour since he had landed and he had made his way to the pirate camp. It was almost funny. They were setting up a defense that would give a small army trouble. But Starkiller was more than a small army.

He was a Sith.

* * *

Dellov watched in horror and disbelief as one of the skiffs lifted and plowed into the one next to it, throwing both off the side of the bridge.

"One man? One man," Dellov raged. "One _kreffing_ man took down seventy men? It is not possible."

The red lightsaber decapitated his first mate.

"Fight on, men," Dellov yelled as he hastened back into the catacombs.

Starkiller grinned as he blasted the last pair of pirates into a wall and jumped up to where the leader had disappeared. Yeah, dark, tight corridors would definitely play to an out of shape, deadbeat pirate captain. Definitely.

"Sorry, Juno," Starkiller said, into the comm. as he entered the tunnel. "I have to drop out of contact for a minute or two. The pirate leader is making a run — well, a waddle — for the catacombs. I'll try and finish up quick."

He didn't hear Juno's reply, the commlink cutting off as darkness engulfed Starkiller.

* * *

Cursr bowed to the young woman. "Thank you for your aid."

"Yeah," Rile said, clipping binders to her hands after passing the link between the rails. He tipped her cap down over her face. "Don't go anywhere." He then had to jog to catch up with Cursr. "Hey, you know where you're going?"

"Yes."

"How? Have you been here before?"

Cursr stopped at a T-crossing in the corridor. He glanced one way and then the other, finally picking one seemingly at random and gliding down it. "The Force guides me."

"Oh, very powerful is the Force."

"Are you mocking me?"

"I wouldn't dare."

Cursr stopped. "Stop."

"Why?"

"I do not want bits of wall falling on you."

"What?"

"I am trying to find the shatterpoint in the wall. Silence."

Rile shook his helmeted head and muttered, "Make up your mind… stupid little womp rat… 'the Force is all powerful'… mightier than thou…"

* * *

Dellov panted as he drew the vibrosword. Starkiller was impressed, and let it show. Of course, his face was cast in red shadows and the flickering light of his lightsaber, making him even more frightening, but he believed the pirate deserved that much at least. He didn't break down crying, begging to be spared. Even when he had to know there was no chance to live — as he saw it — the pirate stood his ground. Even when he was so far outclassed, he chose to fight.

Starkiller readied his stance. "I'm looking for someone."

"Aren't we all," Dellov said, beginning to circle Starkiller.

Starkiller didn't move, not allowing Dellov a chance to lead him into the tunnels again. It had been a pain to track him to this Sith archive, and Starkiller was not keen to start again.

"I want to know," Starkiller started but Dellov acted first. Fueled by panic or courage, Starkiller didn't know. Whatever it was gave the pirate strength.

The vibrosword was old, pre-Republic era. But that did not mean it was decrepit. It _did_ mean it had a cortosis weave. Starkiller grunted as the blows rained down onto his lightsaber, sparks flying. The only thing that saved Dellov from an untimely death was the fact that Starkiller wanted him alive.

The Apprentice ducked back, spinning to smack the vibrosword away. Dellov staggered, but parried the stab Starkiller made for his gut. Starkiller bit back a swear as the sword came down on his arm, his Force-enhanced reflexes the only thing that saved him from losing the limb. Starkiller berated himself mentally. He had let his guard down against an opponent who appeared out of shape and incompetent. While his foe was not the top of his game, the pirate was dangerous. Like a cornered animal.

Starkiller unleashed a blast into Dellov, knocking the man back and into the wall. Starkiller gripped him with the Force, holding him there.

"No more playing," Starkiller growled. "I will spare your worthless hide if you tell me what I want to know."

The man gurgled. "What do you want?"

"You monitor this system, right?" Starkiller walked over and placed the red tip at Dellov's throat. "Have any ships passed through lately? Any landings or transports?"

Dellov wracked his brain, but the humming death was making it hard to think. His small eyes were fixed on it. "Ah… yeah… a whole bunch."

"Really? A whole bunch, huh? That doesn't help me, Pirate."

"I don't know what you're looking for," Dellov whined.

"A ship. A transport. A man called Kota. A Jedi. Anything like that."

"Lots of ships. Lots of transports. All too well armed for us to attack."

"I doubt that, somehow."

"What?"

Starkiller dropped the Force grip and grabbed the man's collar with his hand. The saber swept around and sliced through the wrist holding the vibrosword. Dellov screamed. Starkiller kept the blade low, sneering. "The next cut will hurt even more, Pirate. Now, what ships?"

"Two ships passed in the last two standard months," Dellov blabbered, suddenly very talkative, if a bit high pitched and strained. "We jumped one, but it was a cargo freighter. Nothing on it but food stuffs. The next was an old AA-9 freighter and a Nebulon-B escort frigate. It was joined within the day by an Alderaan transport. They left after."

"Where?" Starkiller asked, lowering his saber. It was amazing how one's memory could be jump started with the threat of harm. And actual harm.

"Don't know," the pirate gasped, tears and sweat pouring down his face. "Records on the consol in the room over the courtyard."

Starkiller dropped him, spinning on his heel and heading for the corridor. "Thanks."

Dellov nursed the stump of his hand. His whole organization dead, destroyed by a boy. He had lost everything. Then the wall behind the pirate captain exploded, effectively ending the man's problems.

* * *

Rile stepped into the room and grimaced under his helmet. "Did you know he was on the other side?"

"No." Cursr walked past and stood in the center of the room. He closed his eyes and concentrated. "Watch over me. I must meditate."

"Why?"

"I do not want to search every scroll for information. I can find the answers I need in the Force."

"Then why don't you use it to find the Eon Fleet?"

"Too many variables. Now, silence."

Rile shrugged and found a place to sit where he did not have to look at the ex-pirate.

There was silence for a long time. Suddenly Cursr's eyes shot open and he bolted out of the room. Rile watched the black robes disappear before he really recognized them for what they were. Knowing it was pointless to go after Cursr while he was running, Rile hit the comm. activation instead.

"Cursr? What is it?"

"The Sith. I must speak with him."

"What? Are you crazy?"

"Either the Force is severely twisted here, or I have lost all talent at Force scrying." The comm. buzzed with sudden a sudden wind and the quickly disappearing hum of engines. "Sithspit."

"I feel like that right now," Rile muttered. "He got away, I take it?"

"Yes. I am heading back. The third section from the door contains the information I desire. Which one it is eludes me, so we will acquire them all."

Rile looked at the indicated area. It was two meters wide and at least four tall, with a hundred or so scrolls and holoplates littering the blocked sections. "All? You have got to be joking. There must be a hundred."

"Then we will take all hundred. We have plenty of time to survey the information. Six standard months, to be exact."

Rile, who had started pulling the hexagonal tubes of scroll off the shelves dropped one on his foot, swore loudly, and yelled into the comm. "Six months? What the nine _kreffing_ hells of Corellia are you playing at Cursr? First it's 'find the Fleet immediately.' Then it's 'the Eon Fleet is not going anywhere.' Now you want us to sit around for six months doing nothing?"

"I do not sound like that. And we will be reading. That is not nothing."

"Why six?"

"That is how long it will take."

"For what?"

"The Sith to take his next step. Rile, I am right behind you. You can stop yelling into the comm. now."

Rile turned and ripped his helmet off. He jabbed a finger into Cursr's chest. "I am getting sick of this."

"You have anger issues, Rile. Meditation works wonders for—"

"Cursr, you are paying me large sums of credits in the form of a ship, action, and possibly a whole new chance at life. The actual credits you toss my way are great too. But I am getting ticked off at not knowing anything and getting jerked around at your whim. It's not easy for me to be a hired gun. I used to give the orders, not take them. So as part of my pay I demand that you fill me in, or I dump you on this world right now and make for greener pastures."

Cursr blinked. "That is a very empty threat."

"I know. You could just kill me, or mind-trick me into doing whatever you want. But that does not mean you are not fair, nor that my demand will go unheard. And it _is_ a demand, Cursr." Rile yanked a Death Stick from his belt and snapped the end, lighting the phosphorous in the tip.

"Those will kill you."

"So? I'm traveling with a guy who hates both sides and both sides probably hate him. I'm walking a thin line as it is."

Cursr sighed heavily, his eyes drifting down and then to the scrolls. "There will be plenty of time to tell you later."

"Six months, right? No, Cursr. Now. At this moment. Or I don't move a foot."

"Very well." Cursr walked into the center of the room and sat down on the stone plinth that served for his earlier meditation. "Rile… the Force grants us visions. Even non-Force-sensitive beings can get them occasionally. For them, as for the Jedi and the Sith — though the Sith never used the Force in this vein — they only touched the surface. The future is a turbulent arena of chaos and tranquil moments. Some things are fixed, while others fluctuate depending on the state of the galaxy. The further forward the visions go, the less precise they become, and the more they can change. For the Jedi and Sith, this is what they see. It is all they know.

"The Itaraian Aeons can see further than that. We can choose a set of criteria or subject and gaze into that set future. There are things that are set, and others that change based on overlapping futures and interactions. That Sith, for example, has a very misty future, but it is linked to the Eon Fleet. It is why I saw his path while I was scrying for the Eon Fleet in my future. His future is blurry; mixed and broken. There is a deviation. But one side is stronger than the other at the moment. The side that favors my future. It is stronger _because_ it favors my future. I will influence him in some way. As will you. In six months the fate of all things lies in your hands, Rile."

Rile blinked. "Come again?"

There was a hollow clapping from the triangular corridor. Fillet walked out into the dim blue light of the archive. "That was a real nice story. Really. I might _buy_ it off you to read to my kids for a bedtime story." Several men and droids trooped out of the hall, circling Rile and Cursr. "That is," Fillet said, drawing her vibroblade, "if I didn't hate kids, Gungans, and Mandalorians who owe me money."


	13. Chapter 12 The Deal

**_Sorry this is a tad later than the others, and shorter. However, this is effectively a third of the way through, so it seems like a good place for a break, if only for a day or two. There will likely be another chapter by the end of the weekend, or a day or two after. In the mean time - until I get my 'zing' back - I would like to suggest to my more mature readers who have played _Left 4 Dead_ - or those who like zombie apocolypse games and do not mind swearing - to have a look at me trying my hand at horror/suspense. That fic will stall more fequently than this one, only becuase I own _Unleashed _and not _4 Dead_. At least until I finish this one._****_ This does not mean this fic is on heatus or dead (ha, ha. Pun.). It has merely stalled from lack of creative fuel. _**

**_Anyway, read and enjoy, review and critque. And check out _2 Human_, under _Left 4 Dead_ in the game's section. Thanks._**

**The Deal**

Rile leveled his DC-17 at a thug just behind Fillet. He really didn't want to kill her, but it would look like that to everyone present.

"Sorry about the fifty creds, Fillet," he said, grinning.

"Yeah, the fifty _thousand_ is going to put a large hole in your income," Fillet said, striding forward and resting the dormant vibroblade just under Rile's chin.

"Thousand? I only owed you for a set of drinks."

"And my two Super Battle Droids and two N-1 fighters."

"Yeah, about that… Cursr did it."

"Who?"

Cursr, who had been cleaning his fore-talon in an absent sort of way glanced up and waved. "Hello."

"Who the _kref_ is that?"

Rile grinned. "Right. I forgot he fried your short term memory."

"He what now?"

"Miss Fillet," Cursr said, standing. "As I can see this argument will not end until next century, and I am working on a six month deadline, could you please wrap up your intended score so I can be on my way?"

"Okay," Fillet said, her eyes cutting to Cursr. "You owe me fifty-thousand credits."

"Done."

"See, Hez—"

"Rile, sweetness. Rile Sandown. Hez is dead," Rile said, a little exasperated at having to repeat himself. "And put your sword down."

"Rile?"

"Yeah. Ring any bells?"

"A little…"

Cursr sighed. "You two dance around each other more than Krayt Dragons in mating season."

Both Fillet and Rile spun to him. "What?"

"Nothing. Miss Fillet, I would gladly pay you. It is therefore an unfortunate pity that I am short two hundred thousand."

"You're short two hundred thousand credits of fifty thousand?" Fillet raised her eyes to the vaulted ceiling and did the math in her head. "You're in debt one hundred and fifty thousand?"

"No."

"But—"

"I am in debt two hundred thousand. Negative numbers. Before totaling your damages."

Rile blinked. "You never told me that."

"My finances are not your problem."

"Yes they are," Rile exploded, forgetting that twenty or so blasters were pointed in his general direction. "You haven't paid _me_! How is it possible for you to have incurred that much debt? You've been away from _Ishtala_ for only two months."

"Comes from obliterating the memories of thirty something individuals after promising payment," Cursr said shrugging. "I intend to rectify it with my own currency, but… that is my concern. One I will deal with later." His gold eyes locked on Fillet. "Miss Fillet?"

"What?"

"I would like to enlist your services."

The room was still. Fillet spoke first, breaking the silence. "With what?"

Cursr's smile sent shivers down the men's spines, and even the droids adjusted their aim. "You want five million credits, right? From a young man and woman?"

"How do you—?"

"I know where you can find them. In six months," Cursr said, talking over Fillet, something very few people did without losing various extremities. "You will aid me and Rile in moving these scrolls from the archive to his ship. Then you will take my deal or not." His grin widened showing a plethora of fangs. "But I feel that you will."

Fillet slipped the vibroblade into its sheath, walking over to take Cursr's hand. "You got yourself a deal." Her grip tightened. "You still owe me fifty thousand."

"How could I forget?"

"But _she_ might," Rile muttered. "Well, no point in standing around all day. Let's get moving."

"Indeed," Cursr said. He bowed to Fillet. "With your permission, Miss Fillet, I will command your soldiers for the moment. Sith artifacts can be… tricky."

Rile rolled his eyes as Fillet grinned, a light blush on her cheeks. The 'soldiers' straightened and puffed out their chests.

As Cursr began to order the thugs around, Rile walked over to him, slipping his helmet on so they could have a private chat.

"Cursr?"

"Yes?"

"What are you doing?"

"Simple manipulation. Fillet is driven by desire. For riches, mostly, and vanity. The thugs need to believe they are more important than they are. Appeal to their best sides. I need allies if I am to secure my goal."

"And how are you going to pay her? You're in debt. Come to think of it, how are you going to pay me?"

"I am a being of my word. I will never go back on my word. It is my honor, my life. I will pay all of my debts. Yours is first on my list. Does that appease you?"

"Not really. Promises cannot buy me death sticks."

"There is a reason for the name, Rile."

"I know. Gives you a hint of how much I put into this life, doesn't it?"

"That is very sad."

"You're breaking my heart."

Cursr turned to look over his shoulder. "Yes, and he might break that. You! Halt and desist."

The thug blinked at him. "What?"

"Look, buddy," Fillet said, smirking at Cursr. "They aren't intellectuals. I hired them for their prowess at lifting and roughing, not their skill at holochess."

Cursr walked over to the man and picked the miniature pyramid out of his hands. "Even basic intelligence should understand one thing." He turned to the thugs and lifted the object over his head. Barely raising his voice, he made himself heard. "This is a Sith Holocron. You find one, you tell me. I will handle them. You do not touch."

Cursr caught Rile's eye and slid the dark metal pyramid into his cloak.

"Let me guess," Rile said, heading to pick up a load of hexagonal scroll holders. "None of my business."

Cursr did not answer. Instead he gripped a few containers in his talons and walked out of the hole in the archive wall.

* * *

Juno watched the swirling of hyperspace with a sense of nausea. She'd heard people describe it as soothing, beautiful, and amazing. She didn't see it. And if she didn't find something else to watch to pass the time, she was going to be seeing what she had for lunch.

Juno got up, leaving PROXY in charge of the cockpit and moved into the training room to see what she could find to occupy herself. The doors hissed open and Juno froze in the entrance.

Starkiller sat in the middle of the dim room, pieces of his lightsaber arranged around his crossed legs. As she watched, the red crystal at the heart of the array floated away to rest next to a sapphire gem. The conical blue crystal then took its place at the center of the half-circle. The lightsaber parts lifted from the floor and swirled together, settling in a way that seemed too complicated to have been assembled by hand. In fact it wasn't, Juno reminded herself. He was using the Force to rebuild it.

The clicks and snaps of metal sounded very loud in the still room. Starkiller opened his eyes as the last pieces of casing closed around the lightsaber. His hand wrapped around it and he thumbed it on. The blade leapt out, a cold blue, sending aqua shadows dancing over the walls in the low lighting.

"It's lovely," Juno murmured, lost in the moment.

Starkiller jumped ever so slightly, and looked up at her. "Well, I couldn't really go around with a Sith red lightsaber. This fits better to the persona I have to develop."

"Right," Juno said. "So that begs the question… where are we going?"

"The pirate said an Alderaan transport ship entered the system and the records he pointed out confirm that. But the ships were in the area long enough for a shuttle to transport a man from one to the other. Also, it was the Alderaan transport frigate with the heading for Nar Shadda. The other ships headed off toward the Outer Rim."

"The Outer Rim is big," Juno said. "It could take months to search. Years even."

"But we don't have years." Starkiller stood and gave her that half-cocked grin he favored now. "Don't worry, we'll find Kota. You're with me, remember."

"That's what I'm worried about."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

As they walked back to the cockpit, Juno thought back to the displays of the Force she'd seen. All of them were powerful, but if the stories she had heard were true, then she hadn't even seen the scratch on the surface. A part of her mind briefly wondered what Admiral Korynn had planned to use her for. The Black Saber project had not sounded good for anybody's well being.

* * *

The transparasteel was soundproof. The man inside knew that, and yet he continued to scream at the top of his lungs. Admiral Korynn watched placidly, a bored smile on his face. As the torture device — lovingly called Breaker by the Storm-Commandos of the _Director_ — powered down, the man continued to howl as the heat and freezing cold ebbed from his skin.

Korynn got up and tapped on the glass, signaling for the storm-commando captain to exit the room. Korynn liked his captain. The trooper was prompt, silent and efficient. Korynn only knew him by the numerical designation of AO-13, but that was all he needed.

The trooper walked into the observation booth and saluted. "Admiral? Do you want to stop the breaking?" As Korynn returned the salute and gestured for the trooper to stand down, AO-13 let a smirk creep over his young face. "Or perhaps you would like to do it personally?"

Korynn made no sign he had heard the suggestion, merely looked at the man strapped to the examination table. "Has he broken?"

"The Jedi are resilient, sir." AO-13 nodded at the man on the table. "He's a tough one, but we'll get him soon."

"Good. Synthetic metachlorian stimulation is good, but I would like one of the Emperor's pets to command them."

"The Dark and Purge projects are getting quite a bit of recognition, sir. We need results."

"I know."

"Sir?"

"Yes, Captain?"

"I would like to volunteer for the procedure."

Korynn's dark eyes did not deviate from the torture room. There was silence for a long time, long enough for the Breaker to auto activate. The Jedi strapped to the table howled as his nerves were frozen and set on fire, electrocuted and slashed.

"It will cause you great pain, Captain."

"I can take pain, sir."

"I was more concerned about you wasting a small fraction of the viable solution we have by dying from the pain."

AO-13 saluted. "My offer stands, sir. Whenever you want it, just say the word."

"I will hold you to that, AO-13." Korynn turned for the door and opened it, letting the screams of pain sooth his mind. "I think I will order my thoughts. Perhaps a bit of personal torturing will aid my cognitive abilities."

AO-13 grinned and followed. "As you say, Admiral Korynn."


	14. Chapter 13 The City of Clouds

**_Sorry for the lost of contact. I fell into the black hole that is school work and only recently emerged. I want everyone to to know this is a work in progress, so comments, questions, suggestions are appreciated. I ran into a small problem with the story: I have seven characters I have to juggle. I will try and give everyone a good bit of time, and flesh out everyone, but PROXY and Phase might not appear that much, and Fillet is a bit one dimensional at the moment. _****_I wanted to warn everyone once again that this might stall due to my overactive imagination and schoolwork. Hopefully I can get enough done to keep you interested. Reviews are always welcome. I might be starting a new story for Starwars, specifically in the Movies section or Books section, wherever it is that you put Star Wars stuff not based on a game. I hope you check it out._**

**_Also, if I messed up the KotOR reference, excuse it. I don't own the game and was just looking for a good Sith name. Besides, Cursr hates all things Sith_ and _Jedi, so I feel it is justified._**

**_Now, read._**

**The City of Clouds**

Cursr watched the young man walk into _The Vapor Room_, a workman's cantina on the lower levels of Bespin's Cloud City.

It had been five months since the Sith had left Ziost. Cursr was not surprised to be off by a month — he was surprised he had been as accurate as he had been. During those five months he had been studying the inane babble that was Sith historical doctrine. And in that time he had found that the Sith were even more insane and delusional than he had believed. However, while most was slanted toward the Sith propaganda routine, the small patch of vital data was there, in the last place he looked.

The Sith Holocron had one scrap of information on the Eon Fleet. Cursr grinned. Their great warrior and Sith Lord, Revan, had given Cursr what he needed.

_The Jedi have succeeded in one minor victory. While the Force Fleet might have been lost, we shall endeavor to retain it. Our spies in the Jedi Temple are close to finding the secret…_

From there, the information turned into a Sith sermon, with no beneficial data. The Force Fleet was the term used by the Sith and Jedi, ignorant to the true name of the Eon Fleet.

Cursr knew now that the information he needed was on Coruscant, in the remains of the Jedi Temple. But the vision had told him to come here, to follow the Sith.

A transmission intercepted — between his pilot and the Sith —while the Sith was away from his ship gave Cursr even more information.

The Sith was referred to as Starkiller — obviously a code name — and the pilot was an Imperial woman named Juno Eclipse. There was a droid, too, that of PROXY. What the droid's function was, and the relationship between all three, was still a mystery. But Cursr knew that the Light side of the Force was becoming stronger in Starkiller. It was interesting. Five months had transformed Starkiller from Sith slave to a boy with a strong feeling of companionship — even love — and inner strength. Crushed as it was under the Sith training, Cursr knew it would take some tremendous act to move the darkness. But it would happen. It had to.

He did not move as the cockpit door opened. Phase did. The small R2 spun on his treads and one of the utility compartments sprang open. Where there should have been an elctro-prod, there was a blaster barrel and stun attachment.

Fillet froze in the doorway. "I am going to kill him. Rile knew it was going to happen."

"Yes," Cursr said, and allowed himself a snort of laughter as Fillet jumped. She hadn't noticed him, folded as he was in the copilot's chair. "Phase, Stand Down."

Phase blatted at the override code and the arm flicked back inside. The R2 turned back to its control panel and continued whatever it had been doing.

Fillet sat down in the pilot's chair. "He almost killed me. That droid has more than a few surprises."

"No."

"No what?"

"Phase only has the one and Rile did not want you dead." Cursr tapped a talon on the control board. "Even if he did, I would have prevented it. You are still useful to me. Besides, Phase is programmed to set to stun, not kill."

"Oh. Well, being stunned is no fun either."

"I wouldn't know."

"Right, because you're mister perfect."

"No, because the Force guides me in combat. I have never felt the sting of weapon."

"I doubt that."

"Indeed."

They lapsed into silence. Suddenly, Fillet pointed out the window. "Look. Stormies."

"What?"

"Stormtroopers. Heading for the cantina."

Cursr sighed. "Finally. It is in motion once more."

* * *

Starkiller stalked into the bar, and glanced around. The occupants were mostly Ugnaught workers, but there were a few other species besides the piggish featured technicians. One stood out, and Starkiller froze for a second, not really believing his eyes.

General Kota sat at a back table, a jug of strong liquor at his hand. He was disheveled, and his once silver hair hung in matted dirty grey strands. His eyes were covered with a likewise dirty bandage, and he wobbled a little in his seat.

"He wouldn't even recognize himself," Starkiller muttered.

He walked over to the General and kicked the table, making the old man jump.

"General Kota?" he asked, keeping his voice level.

"I've paid for this table," Kota grumbled, but his mouth hardened. "So whoever you are… _get lost._"

"General, I've tracked you across the galaxy. From Nar Shadda to Ziost to Force-forsaken holes in every stretch of the galaxy—"

"So who _are_ you?" The General sagged, shrugging a grin onto his face. "A bounty hunter?"

"Not exactly, but I think we can help each other out, Jedi."f

"Jedi? Huh, I'm no Jedi now. Not since this…" Kota ran his hand over the bandage, wincing a little.

"I don't need your eyes, just your mind," Starkiller snarled. "And everything you know about fighting the Empire."

Kota barked a laugh. "No one fights the Empire and _wins_, boy."

A disturbance in the Force. Starkiller spun.

A stormtrooper squad marched into the cantina. The captain pointed at Kota. "There he is. Get him."

"You'd better hope you're wrong about that, General." Starkiller sent a shockwave through the Force, lifting a trio of stormtroopers off their feet and through a segment of transparasteel. "Juno, we need a pick up, outside the _Vapor Room_. Right now."

"On it. ETA two minutes."

"Well, that's not too bad." Starkiller slashed his saber through another trooper and sent the last two cart-wheeling into the wall. "Come on, General. Can't you move any faster?"

"I prefer to walk to my death," Kota slurred.

Starkiller rolled his eyes and turned to the door. Six men stood there, all in blue armor, tall, masked, and carrying light-staves. "Oh… sithspawn," Starkiller swore.

* * *

Rile sighted down the rifle once more. Then he tapped the commlink.

"Cursr?"

"Yes, Rile?"

"Where the sithspawn is he?"

The _Vapor Room's_outer wall exploded and two men hurtled through amid the debris, followed by a third with a blue lightsaber deflecting laser bolts. Four blue Senate Guards leapt after him.

"Ask and thou shall receive, Rile."

"Shut up, Cursr. When do I help?"

"Do not let yourself be known. Clear the way, but covertly. Kill those he cannot handle, but do not let anyone see you."

"Right, got it. Why so particular?"

"Need I explain the finer points of tracking to one so skilled in the field?"

"Flattery will get you everywhere with Fillet, Cursr. _I_ want answers."

"I thought I gave them to you."

"Cursr…"

"Rile, he cannot know we track him. If he does he will focus on us, not his mission. Need I go further?"

Rile watched a carbonite canister explode, freezing a man in place. Starkiller grabbed an older man's arm and used the Force to jump to the upper levels of Cloud City's underbelly.

"It doesn't seem like he needs the help."

"Intervene when necessary. Use your judgment. I trust you brought it with you."

"You are not funny, Cursr."

Rile gazed down the rifle, following the two running forms. A couple hundred meters ahead two snipers set up, covered from sight from opposite them. But not from Rile.

"Hey, boys," he muttered, lining up the shot. "That is my job." Two shots fizzed the air, slagging the scout trooper's armor and spinning his companion around and off his perch.

"Nice. Two kills, one headshot. Let's get that percentage up."

Cursr sighed and rubbed his temples. Fillet grinned. "He still doing that self-conversation thing?"

All she got was an annoyed groan.

* * *

Starkiller gripped Kota with the Force and hurled him up and out of reach of a Senate Guard. His lightsaber clashed with the Guard's, sending sparks to dance on the ground.

_Six months,_Starkiller thought, flipping away from the Guard. _Six months of planet hopping, back alley deals, coercion and bar-fights to find a Jedi General._

He charged the Guard, knocked his blade aside and kneed him in the flexible part of the chest plate, just under the ribs.

_A single lead of the Empire heightening forces here, at Bespin._

He brought an elbow around into the hood-helm, buckling the plastoid armor.

_And what do I get?_

Starkiller ducked, grabbed the man's leg, and yanked up, tripping him. He flipped over the flailing limbs and sank his saber into the man's back, ending the confrontation. He spun and caught Kota's falling body with the Force before dumping him back on his feet.

_A drunk._

"Come on, General. We're almost… there." Starkiller froze, watching the Lambda shuttle landing on the platform.

"Almost where, boy?" the general asked, bumping into his back.

"Sithspit. Juno, we need pick up. Right. Now."

The lander dropped the forward hatch doors and four stormtroopers marched out. They turned and stood at attention, ignoring the apparent Jedi not twenty meters from them. From the dark belly of the shuttle a figure strode. He looked just like the Senate Guards, except his armor was black, red visor blazing at Starkiller.

"I don't know a way to say how bad this is," Starkiller muttered, staring at the Shadow Guard.

"Try Huttese," Kota muttered back. "There are plenty of nasty words."

Starkiller felt something hit him, blasting him into Kota and both of them into the wall.

"Don't know Huttese," Starkiller snarled, bolting to his feet, rolling under another Force push and sending a bolt of lightning into a pair of stormtroopers. He slid under another Force attack and felt a third disperse over him. "This guy's good." Starkiller reached out and gripped a stormtrooper. "But I'm more creative."

The Shadow Guard did not hesitate to slice the thrown trooper in half.

Starkiller danced back, tossing another crate at the Shadow Guard. The metal seared in half and clanked behind the unstoppable onslaught of saber-staff cuts. Starkiller grinned. He gripped a stormtrooper and sent him hurtling at the attacker. Another slice and one more attempt was thwarted.

"Just as I planned," Starkiller muttered. He grabbed a nearby cylinder and hurled it at the Shadow Guard. The lightsaber slashed clean through, breaking the glass and releasing the compressed gas inside. The carbonite froze the man stiff, the momentum carrying the brittle trooper forward, the gravity of the fall smashing him into pieces.

* * *

"Creative," Rile said, grinning. "Cursr, I think Starkiller is in the clear."

"Stay there. We will come to you."

"Roger that."

* * *

Starkiller deactivated his lightsaber, and kicked a shard of what had been the Shadow Guard's arm.

Kota stumbled over the leg of a fallen stormtrooper and grasped Starkiller's shoulder. "Yours is a fool's errand, boy. The Emperor's army is infinite. You'll eventually be killed… or worse. And nothing will have changed."

"But wouldn't you rather die fighting, than drown in some cantina," Starkiller argued, and was surprised by the conviction in his voice. It was as if he really was fighting the Empire, not just serving out Vader's orders.

Kota stroked his goatee and shrugged. "I don't know. I really don't."

Starkiller felt tiredness seep into him. That was it. His only real chance, and the Jedi didn't even know what to do. He glanced up as Kota spoke again.

"But I do have a contact in the Senate who could use your lightsaber. Where's your ship?"

Right on cue there was a roar of engines and the _Rogue Shadow_ soared up in front of them.

* * *

Rile nudged Fillet. "Hey, no hard feelings, right?"

"About what?"

"About Phase. And Cursr. And getting you into this for very little money."

"Oh, I'm getting my pay."

"Right. And Cursr is the Dark Lord of the Sith and Grand Master Yoda's son."

"He is? I thought he was Itaraian."

Rile glanced at her, found her wide grin and frowned at the viewport. "You're playful today."

"Didn't see any action, but I did get something out of Cursr while you were playing sniper."

"Really? What?"

"What he's after."

"Know that."

"How he's going to get it."

"Know that."

"What he's going to do with it."

"Know…" Rile's words caught and he glanced at her. "I never thought about that. What _does_ he want with the Eon Fleet?"

"Something about 'returning the Force to its rightful place of power.'"

Rile feathered the lever forward, plunging them into hyperspace behind the _Rogue Shadow._ "Oh, that can't be good."

"Why not?"

Rile sat back in his chair and glanced over his shoulder. Then he met Fillet's eyes. "Fillet. Cursr is not out here of his own volition. He was banished. He's an outcast, a rebel, rabble-rouser and usurper."

"What?" Fillet hissed, glancing to the sleeping unit down the hall, where Cursr was meditating. "How old is he?"

"How old do you think he is?"

"I don't know. Thirty, Thirty-five standard years."

Rile chuckled. "They start them early on Itara. He's eighteen." He laughed and tapped Phase on the dome. "Hey, buddy. Holograph that expression. It's absolutely priceless. Close the mouth, Fillet. A Mynock might fly in."


End file.
